The Legacy of Sartorius
by Lady Liadan
Summary: After his arrest Lucius has fallen out of favor with Lord Voldemort. He and his family are in mortal peril. Can he and Eleanor save themselves and Draco? Third story in the Sartorius cycle.
1. Introduction

**Introduction**

This is the third story in the Sartorius cycle! While this is a stand-alone, I'll refer to some of the events described in the previous stories. For those who haven't read "The Secret of Sartorius" and "The Promise of Sartorius", here's a brief timeline and summary of what's been going on.

If you are planning on reading the other two fics, skip this, because it'll spoil you badly. If you have already read the other two stories you can also ignore the rest of this.

Just move ahead to the next chapter!

**The Secret of Sartorius:**

**Early** **1970s**:  
Lord Voldemort and the Death Eaters (including Lucius' father Octavian Malfoy) kill the German wizarding family of the Sartorius. Everyone thinks that no one survived. However, Wilhelm Sartorius, his wife and young daughter flee to England and live in London pretending to be muggles. Wilhelm Sartorius and a muggle friend, Marvin Oswald, open _The Four Elements_ bookstore in the Strand.

**Late 1970s**:  
Wilhelm's daughter Eleanor Sartorius attends Durmstrang

**1980s**:  
Eleanor returns to the muggle world, studies history of art and eventually gets a teaching job at the University of London

**June 1989**:  
Albus Dumbledore and Minerva McGonagal seek out Eleanor and offer her a job at Hogwarts to teach muggle studies. Eleanor accepts. Eleanor meets Lucius Malfoy in Diagon Alley.

**August 1989**:  
In his position as school governor Lucius interviews Eleanor as a new staff member. He gives her a book on the Dark Arts written by her grandfather, Falco Sartorius. Eleanor discovers Lucius is a Death Eater while Lucius realizes that Eleanor has sympathies for the Dark Arts, but hates Voldemort. The leader of the Death Eaters, George Lepidus, finds out that Falco Sartorius used his knowledge of alchemy to illegally manufacture a homunculus, a tiny human shell kept in a vial that could be grown if fed on human blood and could become a body for the Dark Lord. Lucius is set to spy on Eleanor to obtain information where the homunculus might be found.

**September 1989**:  
Eleanor visits Lucius at Malfoy Manor. They spend the night together. A few days later Dumbledore alerts Eleanor to the existence of the homunculus and Lucius' deception. Furious, she breaks off all contact to him. The Death Eaters raid and search the old Sartorius residence in Cologne and the Four Elements bookstore, killing a muggle. Eleanor realizes that Marvin Oswald is now in danger. She alerts the aurors, locates him and is about to warn him when the Death Eaters attack. Eleanor attempts to defend herself and her friends, but when Lepidus curses her with the _cruciatus_ Lucius intervenes, taking on the curse in her stead. The aurors arrive and Eleanor manages to slip away unnoticed, taking Lucius with her. They hide out at her old muggle house in London getting reconciled and decide to each lie low for a while as some of the Death Eaters got arrested and they are now under observation by the aurors. Eleanor further researches the location of the homunculus and finds out that he is kept in a secret compartment at her father's bookstore. Lepidus, who has escaped arrest steals the information and manages to secure the vial that holds her grandfather's experiment.

**October 1989**:  
The aurors finally stop watching Lucius Malfoy and Eleanor gets another invitation to Malfoy Manor. When she arrives she finds that Lucius is missing. Following her connection to the homunculus she manages to get to the dungeon where Lepidus has imprisoned Lucius whom he now considers a traitor. He is using him to feed the homunculus with human blood, slowly killing him. Together Lucius and Eleanor manage to defeat Lepidus, and Lucius agrees to hand both Lepidus and the homunculus over to the aurors in order to prove himself to Eleanor. Eleanor finds out that Dumbledore had brought her back into the wizarding world precisely because he hoped she would play a part in thwarting Lepidus' plans and perhaps draw Lucius away from the Death Eaters. She refuses to change Lucius from what he is. Finding her position at school difficult with her relationship with Lucius, she is glad to accept a teaching position at Durmstrang.

**

* * *

The Promise of Sartorius**

**March 1994**:  
Eleanor Sartorius is still teaching at Durmstrang and has become head of the House of Fire. After Igor Karkaroff's flight the school has a new headmistress. Lucius visits quite frequently and it becomes clear that he is unhappy with Lord Voldemort's lack of success in eliminating Harry and reestablishing the Death Eaters. One of Karkaroff's nieces, who attends school has managed to get herself pregnant and intends to marry the muggle-born student who has fathered her child. Her pureblood family is furious at her dishonor and Igor breaks back into the school murdering the father and unborn child. He is eventually killed himself, but not until it becomes clear that he seems to possess a strange ability to endure the unforgivable curses without any ill effect. Intrigued Eleanor and Lucius attempt some demon invocation and discover a means to evade magical attack.

**May 1994**:  
Lucius has grown even more apprehensive with regards to Voldemort's plans. He instructs the Malfoy family lawyer to contact Eleanor if something should happen to him and places in his care a book that he and his father have used for many years to blackmail prominent wizards and witches for political favors. During the Battle at the Department of Mysteries he and other Death Eaters are arrested, brought to Azkaban and questioned illegally under Veritaserum. The lawyer, Advocatus Tethering, informs Eleanor as instructed and after some deliberation she decides to use Lucius' book to compel people to help her. She first secures permission for herself and Tethering to visit Lucius in Azkaban and is shocked at the mistreatment he's had to endure. Tethering suggests that they should try and get him sentenced to exile in the muggle world. Lucius is not happy about this, but the alternatives, life imprisonment or execution seem even less appealing.

**June 1994**:

Eleanor visits Professor Dumbledore in his capacity as head of the wizengamot and Professor Snape who is with him and barters away her knowledge of how to dodge the unforgivables for a sentence of exile for Lucius. She also meets with Draco at the request of his father and finds out that Draco is upset because of Narcissa's refusal to help Lucius. The wizengamot convenes and after a brilliant defense by Tethering, Lucius is indeed sentenced to exile. His magical powers are suppressed by a squib-hex and his wand is broken. Narcissa also informs him that she is filing for divorce. Lucius snaps and is unceremoniously thrown out of the Ministry, which violates some of the conditions of his sentence. He seeks refuge in Eleanor's old London home and in order to avoid arrest for helping an exiled wizard, which is forbidden, Eleanor asks Marvin Oswald to supply him with food and other necessities. Lucius finds it difficult to settle in without his magical abilities.

**July 1994**:  
Because of the desertion of the Dementors the arrested Death Eaters manage to stage another mass breakout and at the command of Voldemort seek out Lucius, whom the Dark Lord wants dead for confessing earlier under Veritaserum. Eleanor decides she will not abandon Lucius and comes to his rescue, tricking a storekeeper in Diagon Alley into selling her a broom and reporting the auror that shadows her as a Death Eater to the ministry. She finds that the Death Eaters have already overpowered Lucius and are torturing him. Using her ability to evade the unforgivables she is able to fight them off, but is nearly killed by Bellatrix. Lucius manages to save her by knocking his sister-in-law out with his cane. The next morning Eleanor finds that Lucius is in bad shape. He loathes himself for being nothing more than a muggle, and to get through to him she finally breaks a habit of many years or self-restraint and confesses her feelings for him. He reciprocates. With the Death Eaters defeated and secured, Lucius and Eleanor call in Advocatus Tethering who helps them to make bail and secure a date for the review of Lucius' sentence, as it was carried out with omissions and in a highly irregular manner. A few days later during the review session the wizengamot is forced to revoke the sentence and Lucius is reinstated as a wizard. Eleanor is cleared of the charges of helping him, as he was not appropriately exiled in the first place. Lucius exerts his revenge on Narcissa by accepting her divorce and enforcing the marriage contract that takes Draco away from her. Back at Malfoy Manor Lucius and Eleanor find themselves confronted by another Death Eater attack. Draco has been taught the evasion of the unforgivables by Snape and manages to survive an attack by Bellatrix. Lucius is furious and flays Bellatrix alive for her attempt on the life of his son. Scared and appalled by his behavior Eleanor briefly doubts her feelings for him, but they manage to patch things up.

**August 1994**:  
Eleanor has decided to resign as head of house at Durmstrang and live at Malfoy Manor, attending school merely to teach in the mornings. She is convinced that the Death Eaters will make other attempts on their lives and she and Lucius strike up some bargains with several aurors and with Severus Snape. Lucius proposes to Eleanor on her birthday.

* * *

"The Legacy of Sartorius" picks up where "The Promise of Sartorius" has left off.

As with the other stories the usual disclaimers are in place. Thanks go again to Ms. Rowling for creating the wonderful universe of Harry Potter's world and to Mr. Isaacs for his magnificent portrayal of Lucius Malfoy.

Read, review and - hopefully - enjoy!


	2. Quality Quiddich Supplies

**Quality Quiddich Supplies**

_"Veni, vidi, visa. – I came, I saw, I spent a little money." (Anonymous)_

Lucius Malfoy impatiently tapped his foot on the polished flagstone floor of _Quality Quiddich Supplies_ in Diagon Alley. Draco was now trying on the seventh pair of seeker gloves and his father was just about ready to slam his silver-tipped cane on the counter and tell him to make up his damn mind and hurry up. "I don't know," he heard his son say. "I think the last but one pair had a better fit, though this one seems to possess a better grip."

The shop-assistant, a young wizard only a few years older than Draco opened yet another box. "Well, if you like the grip of these, then you want to try this." He pulled out a new set of gloves and waved them under his customer's nose. "We've just got them in from Spain, finest kidskin, slightly roughed, and impregnated with some very subtle adherence spells – perfectly regulation of course. I want to see the snitch that slips through their hold. And of course they are a bit snugger around the wrist, like the pair you said fit better. Here, try them."

Lucius' patience was truly wearing thin by now. "Draco," he growled and tossed back his robes. "Do you think there is a chance we will actually make it out of here before the Hogwarts express leaves tomorrow?" The blond boy looked back at his father, gloves in hand. "If you recall, I offered to go by myself this year," he defended himself.

"Yes, and have the Death Eaters pick you off and murder you. I don't think so," said the elder Malfoy. Draco scowled now. "Well and whose fault is that?" he sneered. "I didn't get myself caught red-handed and fell out of favor with His Lordship."

"Young man, I'm warning you to watch your tongue," threatened Lucius, tightening the grip around his cane. Just then a small cluster of bells above the door chimed, and the wizard turned to see who had entered the shop. Despite his best efforts to remain annoyed his lips curved in an involuntary smile as he regarded the red-haired witch who peered into the dim interior of the store. "Eleanor," he said and took a step towards her, only to see her recoil with an expression close to panic on her face.

His brows shot up in surprise. There was absolutely no reason why his fiancé should react to him in this way, but a moment later the young shop assistant had dared to bodily push him out of the way and rushed towards her, grabbing her hand.

"Miss Lestrange – Athena, it is so good to see you! And you are alive! I am so glad!" Everyone in the rather busy store turned to stare, and into the sudden quiet Lucius heard the love of his life say quite distinctly: "Oh crap!"

Lucius had hardly the patience to idly stand by and watch this little snot of a quiddich salesman first manhandle him and now lay hands on his future wife. He stepped up and pushed the chased serpent top of his cane against the clerk's chest.

"Excuse me," he snarled. "I believe you are mistaken. I would strongly suggest you refrain from bothering this witch. This is Professor Eleanor Sartorius and you have absolutely no business with her. Now I advise you to let go of her and help my son to _finally_ decide on his quiddich gloves." The shop assistant stared in confusion at the red-haired witch and in alarm at the fanged snake-head that now painfully pressed against his sternum. "But, but…"

Eleanor sighed and stepped to the side to lay a calming hand on Lucius' arm as the students and parents that crowded the store gawked at them. Ever since Mr. Malfoy's trial earlier that year and the long article in _Witch Weekly_ about Mrs. Malfoy's red-haired rival and her scandalous divorce, the Lord of Malfoy Manor and his lover were marked wizarding folk. It was impossible to go anywhere without inviting unwelcome attention.

Lucius Malfoy had been rehabilitated by the wizengamot a little over a month ago after his spectacular arrest at the Department of Mysteries, and Eleanor had been cleared of any wrongdoing in helping him, but both had retained their notoriety, him as a Death Eater who had been briefly exiled to live as a muggle, her as an unprincipled home-wrecker, and both as practitioners of the Dark Arts of the worst kind.

Eleanor realized she had to clear up this misunderstanding in public, before anything worse could happen. Lucius' temper seemed extremely taxed already. She tried to smile at the shop assistant, looking suitably contrite.

"I'm afraid, Mr. Malfoy here is right. My real name is Eleanor Sartorius. I do apologize I had to resort to a little white lie the last time we met and you sold me that fantastic Firebolt. I had to get away from an auror who was following me. Still, your help that evening was invaluable. I would recommend you to the Ministry, but of course you were instrumental in getting an auror arrested and beaten up by mistake." She smiled sweetly, causing the young man to cast a terrified glance at his curious audience.

"I swear, I didn't know," he explained to no one in particular. "She tricked me!"

Eleanor's smile broadened. "Perhaps you should go and help your young client over there," she suggested gently and indicated Draco with a nod of her head. "I think he has a question for you." Blushing beet-red and flustered the quiddich salesman rushed back to his counter, and slowly the other customers returned to their errands.

Eleanor found herself under the watchful gaze of her lover. "What was that all about?" he said quietly. "Oh, never mind, dear," she said airily, lacing her arm through his and stroking the gloved hand that held his ebony cane. "I promise you, you don't want to know the gory details. In any case I don't think we'll ever live this year down, regardless."

Lucius shook his head and decided to change the topic. Eleanor could be maddeningly evasive if she chose to be.

"Did you get the parchment?" he asked. She smiled and held up an old battered scroll of vellum, sealed with an indigo ribbon and the Sartorius family crest. "No problems. At least the goblins at Gringotts are still discretion itself, quite a refreshing change."

She looked over at Draco and the shop assistant. The young wizard was in the process of nervously packing up one of the glove boxes and Lucius' son watched him with an air of arrogant amusement before he pulled out a well-filled purse and paid for his purchase.

As he approached, his father let out a small snort of annoyance. "Are you _sure_, you got the right pair? Can you really decide after only trying on _half_ of all they have in stock here?"

Eleanor shook her head, certain she had missed something earlier. "Gentlemen, gentlemen," she admonished both, then leaned in on her companion, purring into his ear. "Lucius, you know damn well what you're doing to me when you get all angry and sarcastic like that." She felt a soft shudder run through his body, but then Draco looked back at them with a mixture of exasperation and disgust. "I heard that," he said.

The elder Malfoy appeared instantly sobered and cast a quick look around. "High time for you to get back to Hogwarts, Draco. Now let's get out of here," he said and opened the door. Soon they stood on the crowded pavement of Diagon Alley. The street was bristling with young wizards and witches and their parents, who were making last-minute purchases for the new school year.

Lucius pulled a letter from his robes and read over the writing in green ink. "Robes and books," he mumbled, then focused on Draco. "Very well, I'll go over to Madam Malkin and pay for your school robes – she can send them directly to Hogwarts. You go with Eleanor and buy your school books."

He proffered the letter with the book list to his lover and Eleanor raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure, you wouldn't rather go to _Flourish& Blotts_?" she asked, picturing Lucius squished in among hordes of giggling witches at the narrow robe-maker's store.

"No, trust me," said both wizards in unison. The red-haired witch threw up her hands in surrender. "Fine, fine, just asking," she said. "What do I know? See you at the _Leaky Cauldron_ in half an hour," she called after Lucius, who now impatiently shouldered his way through the crowds.

"What's that all about?" she asked Draco when they were out of earshot. The young wizard shook back his blond hair and grinned. "Oh, five years ago father got into a fistfight with Arthur Weasley at the bookshop," the young wizard explained.

"Father gave Mr. Weasley a piece of his mind regarding the fact that the old Weasel is constantly brown-nosing muggles. Well, Weasley couldn't take it, lost his cool and attacked father. He was so angry, he didn't even think to do magic, used his fists instead, like one of his bloody muggles. He pushed father into some shelves, but father hit him back pretty well, you should have seen all the blood! He would have won, too, if he hadn't been smacked in the eye by a book. Mother had him lying at home on the settee in the drawing room that evening while the house elves kept putting raw steak on his eye. He was so mad!" Draco grinned. "It was pretty cool, though."

Eleanor shook her head. "Right, and now he has a restraining order against him or something?" Draco shrugged his shoulders. "Nah, but old Mrs. Blotts gives him evil looks every time he goes there. It's all rather unpleasant." With that they had reached the store and the witch sighed as she saw the crowds squeezing their way among the narrow passages between the shelves.

"We should really not listen to your father and leave shopping till the very last day of the holidays," she said. "Well, there's nothing for it now. Let's do this. You take 'Advanced Spellwork', 'Runes for Masters', 'Arithmancy III' and 'Astronomy of the Ancients'. They are all on the second floor. I'll grab the rest downstairs. Let's meet by the exit as soon as we are done."

Eleanor felt bad about chaperoning an almost 16-year-old, but she and Lucius had decided that since the elder Malfoy had fallen out of favor with Lord Voldemort and Draco had already almost been killed by Bellatrix Lestrange, they would not take any chances. She watched the younger Malfoy's blond head bob above the crowds as he pushed his way up the broad staircase to the top of the shop and then steered her own way over to the first book on her list: 'Magical Protection and Self-defense.'

As she leaned in to grab the heavy volume from a pile she overheard her name and stopped to listen. Two witches, who had obviously noticed her coming into the store, were excitedly exchanging gossip. They seemed unaware that she was now standing right behind them.

"You know, it all came out after the trial," said one of the women. "Apparently Mr. Malfoy and this Sartorius witch have been an item for years. He had her staying at his house right under his wife's nose and visited her at Durmstrang for weeks on end. She teaches Defense against the Dark Arts there. Well, poor Narcissa tried to keep it all together, for her son's sake. But finally when her husband got sent to Azkaban prison and then was made a muggle for what he had done, she just couldn't take it any more. I mean, who could? You'd have to be a saint!"

"Yes, and I heard Sartorius is a Death Eater, too. And that she hexed the judges, so they reviewed Mr. Malfoy's sentence and restored his magical powers and rehabilitated him. She even bewitched Albus Dumbledore. She only pretends to teach Defense, she really teaches the Dark Arts at Durmstrang," hissed the other witch.

"Well, what do you expect in Iceland? They are half-wild up there anyway. I would never send my daughter to school at Durmstrang. After all, they had a real Death Eater as headmaster – Igor Karkaroff. I heard Sartorius killed him last spring."

Eleanor bit her lip. This was outrageous nonsense, and for a short time her temper got the better of her. She grabbed her wand and quickly stepped out from behind the shelves. "Have you not heard of the common curse for libel and slander? _Lingua bifurcata_?" She did not accompany her spell with any wand movement, so nothing happened, but the two witches stared at her in pure terror, gasped and rushed off into the crowd.

She gave a laugh that sounded hollow, even to her, tossed back her hair and hefted the heavy Defense volume. It seemed she was really shaping up to be a true Malfoy. Now she was even threatening to hex people in public.

"Tsk, tsk, that was not very nice," said a deep voice behind her, and as she turned she looked into the haughty, sallow face of Professor Snape. His brown eyes held a spark of amusement as he taunted her.

"Yeah, well, as one of these brainless gossips just put it so aptly, 'you'd have to be a saint'," she snapped.

The potions master shook his head. "If you wanted to escape unwelcome attention, why on earth go shopping on the very last day of the summer vacations?" She gave him a sour smile. "That's exactly what I asked Lucius over breakfast this morning."

"Oh, but Lucius likes being the center of attention. You should know that by now," said Snape leaning in on her.

Someone jostled her from behind just then and the professor reached to steady her as she bumped against him. She felt his fingers on her wrist, and next sensed a thin piece of paper being pushed against her palm. Quickly she closed her hand around it. "Read this in private," he whispered into her ear, then drew back looking at her with detached amusement.

Eleanor quietly pocketed the note, tucked the Defense book under her right arm and pushed several coppery curls out of her face with her left hand. She saw Snape's eyebrow rise. "Well, well, Narcissa's old wedding ring. Lucius doesn't waste any time – or any money, does he now?" he leered at her. The witch felt blood sting her cheeks, partly with embarrassment, partly from annoyance.

"The ring belonged to Lavinia Malfoy, his mother," she explained stiffly. "And I think this is none of your business." She realized belatedly that the potions master had simply tried and succeeded in pushing her buttons. He gave her a self-satisfied smirk, then his features softened.

"Well, I guess congratulations are in order. When's the wedding?" Eleanor shook her head, her anger draining out of her. "We don't know yet, Severus. At the moment we are more concerned with merely staying alive."

The wizard looked at her soberly. "Well it seems you have your priorities straight. You will assuredly need to keep your wits about you," he added with a meaningful glance, then turned. "Give my regards to Lucius," he said as he walked away.

Eleanor shook her head and continued her battle through the crowds to collect the rest of Draco's study materials. They met outside _Flourish& Blotts_ without another incident, both balancing a teetering pile of books. "_Minusculus_," she incanted and shrunk both piles so they would fit into their robe pockets. "Did you get everything," she asked the younger Malfoy as they slowly made their way to the _Leaky Cauldron_.

"Yeah," said Draco, "though I had to threaten a Hufflepuff over the last copy of Arithmancy III." Eleanor snorted. "Who ended up with the book?" she asked. Draco merely lifted an eyebrow. She tried to suppress a smile. As if she had to ask.

The _Leaky Cauldron_ was crammed with students consuming large quantities of butter beer and grown-upsdrinking equally generous amounts of mead and firewhisky. It seemed the stress of shopping was getting to everyone. Eleanor tried to peer over the heads of the crowd looking for a glimmer of pale blond and eventually cast a quick location spell. Lucius hadn't arrived yet.

She miraculously discovered a small unoccupied corner table and ordered a butterbeer and a tankard of the _Cauldron_'s rather good summer ale. Draco settled in and unwrapped his new quiddich gloves to give his purchase a closer inspection.

Eleanor found that sitting down with abouttwelve shrunk books in her robes was uncomfortable and tried to rearrange her pockets when her hand closed around Snape's note. She cast a furtive glance around, but couldn't see anyone pay any particular attention to her. She carefully opened the folded parchment and read the short message inside.

A hand suddenly molded itself around her shoulder and she jerked sideways with surprise. "Eleanor," she heard Lucius' voice, and as she looked up, she read concern in his grey eyes. "It's me. Are you all right? You look as if you'd just seen a ghost."

She shook her head, feeling a tremor run through her. "No, I'm not all right. We need to go home, Lucius. Now!" The blond wizard didn't even ask her for an explanation. He immediately pulled out a portkey, slammed a few sickles on the table for drinks they hadn't even started and spoke an apparition spell.

As the _Leaky Cauldron_ winked out of existence Eleanor still saw Snape's precise handwriting before her: "Yesterday evening Mr. Crabbe has been commanded by L.V. to instruct his son to poison Draco at Hogwarts this year. This will be only the beginning."


	3. “A Few – Items … that Might Embarrass Me...

**"A Few – Items … that Might Embarrass Me…" **

_"They that are on their guard and appear ready to receive their adversaries are in much less__danger of being attacked than the supine, secure and negligent." (Benjamin Franklin)_

Lucius' angry steps echoed along the paneled walls of the deep, cavernous dining room at Malfoy Manor as he paced back and forth in agitation. He turned with a squeak of his boots as he angrily tossed Snape's crumpled-up note into the fire-place.

"This is outrageous!" he shouted. "It is one thing attacking me, but to make attempts on the life of my son?! I will not tolerate this! I'll strangle young Vincent with my bare hands if he so much as looks at Draco askance! I will put a curse on his father! I will personally eradicate the whole miserable bunch of them!"

Eleanor and Draco sat at the table, still wearing their street robes and with their school supplies strewn across the tabletop between them. Two house-elves cowered nervously by the door, surveying their master out of huge, worried eyes. Lucius showed no intention to stop his angry diatribe against the Dark Lord, the Crabbe family, the Death Eaters or the universe at large any time soon. From the walls the portraits of various Malfoy ancestors surveyed the current master of the Manor with expressions of amusement, boredom or shared anger. Several shouted encouragements. Eleanor felt a headache coming on.

She knew that she would have to let Lucius calm down on his own time before they could think of how to counter this latest threat of the Death Eaters. Draco looked a bit pale, but seemed less concerned than his father.

"Crabbe couldn't poison anyone," he whispered to her during a renewed outburst. "He's so dim he'd drink the stuff himself by mistake before he could get it into anyone's food. If that's the best the Dark Lord can do, I'm not surprised any more he never could get Potter, though he's just a stupid, self-important Gryffindork."

Eleanor didn't quite share the younger Malfoy's optimism, but felt reassured that Draco seemed to prove rather unaffected by the news. Finally Lucius stopped wearing a groove into the dining room floor, slammed both fists on the table and looked at his family.

"What are we going to do?" he asked. He pulled out a chair and sat down facing his lover and his son.

Eleanor leaned forward steepling her hands before her. "Well, we first have to make a decision whether we want to have you attend school at all this year," she said to Draco. "Everything else follows from that."

"'Course I'll go," shrugged the younger Malfoy. "I'm not going to be intimidated by an idiot like Crabbe with a poison bottle," he snorted.

"That's the spirit, boy!" hollered a yellowed portrait of old Petronius Malfoy.

"Oh cut it out, great-grandfather. This is not helping," sighed Lucius.

"Well, if Severus knows there are going to be attempts on Draco's life, then so does Dumbledore. He will not let any of the students be injured," said Eleanor. "I think Draco would be safer at school than anywhere else. Look how Dumbledore has managed to protect Harry Potter, despite the fact that Voldemort has expended considerably more energy and resources on trying to kill him. Plus Severus will be on the lookout as well."

Lucius cast a sour look in her direction. Dumbledore was a sore topic for him, and the fact that the headmaster of Hogwarts had recently pardoned him in his function as chief judge of the wizengamot had not changed his deep-seated dislike of the man. The old wizard was the last person on earth Lucius wanted to feel indebted to. Now it seemed he would also have to be grateful to the man for protecting his only son and heir against his former master. Eleanor had just rubbed salt into the wounds.

"Yeah, that's why Dumbledore employed a known werewolf at the school a few years ago," Lucius griped. "But fine, it's decided. Draco, you'll go to Hogwarts this year. I'll be damned if I let my family be cowed by Voldemort. We're not going to hide, and we're not going to alter our lives just because of some Death Eaters. Still I'm not going to rely on that old fool of a headmaster to protect my son."

He pushed back his chair and got up again. "You two, come here!" he commanded the two house elves who approached him, warily prostrating themselves. "Move the table over there." Eleanor and Draco stood aside as the two servants pushed against the long heavy oak table and slowly and painfully shifted the bulky furniture to the side.

Lucius picked up his cane and removed his wand. He mumbled a bunch of passwords and finished with a resounding "_Alohomora_!" pointing at the floor. A moment later the seams of a large trapdoor showed in the smooth floorboards. The elves hurried over and pulled up the door revealing the top of a circular stone staircase leading down to a room underneath. Draco looked on as if he'd seen the secret space before, but Eleanor stepped up in curiosity.

"My, my, Lucius, do you ever run out of surprises?" she asked him.

He gave her a brief smirk. "Don't count on it, dear," he teased her. "Now I know we'll have this place crawling with aurors tomorrow for your weekly Defense workshop. But this is something you would not ever want them to discover."

"May I see, though?" she asked.

"Of course," he assured her. "After our wedding you will also get the secret ward passwords, just like everyone else who is of age in the family. Please, after you."

He lit the top of his wand with a spell and held it above them as Eleanor carefully followed the well-worn stone steps that seemed to be shaped from the very bedrock on which Malfoy Manor was built. She heard the sound of Lucius' boots behind her, and a little distance off the lighter footfall of his son. After about two turns she found the staircase even out onto a smooth flagstone floor. A large domed chamber now rose above them, and at the apex she saw the light that filtered down the stairs from the dining-room above.

She pulled out her own wand and cast a spell for light. Now she could make out tall shapes against the walls of the room and as she walked closer she saw shelves reaching all the way to the arched ceiling. The illumination of her magical tool showed her the grotesque forms of mummified body parts, cob-web encrusted bottles and jars, skulls of magical beasts, old grimoires with curling shriveled leaves that seemed to whisper and hiss at her as she approached and instruments of torture, some gleaming with fierce stainless newness, some encrusted with rust and substances she did not want to further contemplate. A clothes stand held several sets of Death Eater robes and masks.

"Nice," she said with a doubtful glance at her lover. "I – guess my grandfather Falco would have been very impressed."

He joined her and encircled her waist with his arm. His warm breath caressed her neck as he whispered into her ear. "One day soon, all of this will be yours, too."

She cleared her throat. "I can barely wait, my dear," she said.

He laughed quietly. "Liar," he challenged her.

As Draco approached he moved over to his son.

"Don't touch anything!" he cautioned him. "Half this stuff isn't catalogued. We haven't known what it does for several generations. I guess we haven't had a scholarly-minded Malfoy in the family since great-great-aunt Melusina tried to research and inventory everything properly. Unfortunately her efforts came to a rather sudden end."

"Why?" asked Draco and reluctantly withdrew his hand from what looked like a stuffed manticore. Lucius began searching the contents of a lower shelf off to the side.

"We are not sure," he said. "Draco, hold my wand for a minute. Eleanor, I need some more light over here. One day she didn't come back up into the dining room. No one ever saw her again. For all we know, she might still be down here somewhere."

"Ugh," said Draco. "You'd think you'd be able to smell her after a while."

The older Malfoy withdrew a small leather pouch from a box filled with various objects. "Now I won't have you talk with disrespect of Aunt Melusina, Draco. I am sure she decomposed very gracefully. – All done. Let's go back upstairs."

He led the way back to the dining-room where the elves closed the door and put the table back in its old place. As they pulled their chairs up again no one would have guessed they were sitting on top of a secret room filled to the ceiling with dangerous Dark Arts objects.

Lucius opened the pouch and shook two objects into the palm of his hand. Draco and Eleanor leaned forward and looked at them with curiosity. One of them appeared to be a plain silver ring set with a cabochon cut from some material like a shimmering translucent pearl, the other was a walnut-sized rock of an intense red color not unlike a piece of polished cinnabar.

The witch stretched out her hand and picked up the rock, which proved to be quite heavy for its size.

"You actually own an entire bezoar. Impressive," she said as she identified the rather rare and expensive object.

Draco appeared interested now. "I've used tiny bits of it as a powder in Professor Snape's potions class, but I've never seen a whole one," he declared.

Lucius lifted an eyebrow. "Then I am sure you can tell me about its magical properties, son."

Draco cast a quick glance at his father, then at Eleanor. "It's the most powerful antidote to poison that exists," he said. "It is on very rare occasions found in the stomach of a certain type of black goat."

Lucius nodded. "Very good. It seems studying for your NEWTs last year has had some positive effects. I want you to take this to school with you tomorrow. You will place it in a glass of water every evening and drink the water in the morning. It should render you impervious to virtually all poisonous potions. Guard this well. Most of your classmates' parents would have to work for an entire year to be able to afford one of those." He put the stone back into the pouch and handed it to his son.

"What about the ring?" asked Eleanor. "I do not think I've ever seen a stone like that. It's beautiful."

Lucius gave her a grim smile. "It should be. It was cut from the horn of a live unicorn."

The witch sat back with a gasp. "Holy Hecate! You mean someone killed a unicorn to obtain this ring?"

"Yes," her lover admitted. "My family has owned this ring for four generations, and a Malfoy paid with his soul for it. Draco, can you tell me what a piece of a living unicorn horn will do?"

The younger Malfoy picked up the ring with a rare show of reverence and twisted it between his fingers. As the horn cab caught the light the jewel shone with an almost unearthly beauty. "Unicorn horn will temporarily turn dull and darken when in the presence of poison," he quoted. Lucius nodded. "You will wear this for additional protection."

Eleanor put her hand on his arm. "Wait! This is a proscribed substance. If anyone sees Draco wearing this it will be confiscated and he will be brought before the wizengamot."

Lucius nodded. "That's why we will do this." He lifted his wand and touched the ring which now showed a plain green jewel, not unlike a Slytherin house ring. "It will still warn you, becoming darker in color, but no one should recognize it for what it is." He handed the ring to his son, who slipped it on his hand.

"Hey," said Draco, "I almost forgot. I also still have this." He fumbled at the collar of his robes and pulled out a small round gold pendant showing a twelve-rayed star and magical runes.

"A talisman for protection. Where'd you get that?" asked Lucius.

"Eleanor gave it to me when you were in prison and she brought me your seal and your message."

The older Malfoy looked over at her with a lift of his eyebrows. "You didn't tell me. Thank you for doing that."

Eleanor actually felt a little embarrassed. "I was worried, even then," she explained. "Does it work, Draco?"

The younger Malfoy nodded. "It turned cold as ice just before Bellat…" he caught himself remembering that his father had forbidden that his aunt's name would ever be mentioned again. "That woman and the other Death Eaters came at us behind the house in July. That's how we managed to resist their attack, because I was able to warn the others."

Lucius looked at his family in satisfaction. "Very well. I want to see the Dark Lord's plans play out now! He will find the Malfoys a harder nut to crack than that clueless Potter-brat." With his usual energy and sense of purpose he got up, slipped off his street robes and gallantly helped Eleanor out of hers. "Draco, I believe it's time for you to go upstairs and pack up your things for tomorrow."

He waved an imperious hand at the house elves. "Nibbs, help my son with his Hogwarts trunks. Libby, take our cloaks and serve tea for two in the silver hall."

Then he turned to his fiancé and offered her his arm. "Eleanor, I believe we have some business to attend to in the ball-room." She picked up the battered-looking scroll of parchment she had brought back with her earlier from Diagon Alley and walked out of the dining room with him.

Behind them in his broad gold frame old Petronius Malfoy squinted up into his enormous powdered wig. "Poor Melusina," he sighed. "Such a delightfully curious witch. Such a terrible fate…"

* * *

The ball-room, also known as the Silver Hall, was a large vaulted chamber with a polished grey marble floor which occupied almost the entire ground floor of the south wing of Malfoy Manor and could easily accommodate up to 200 guests. It was aptly named for the lavish silver-framed mirrors and silver and crystal chandeliers that decorated it and gave it the appearance of a sparkling, glittering ice cave. Large windows caught the afternoon light as Lucius opened the heavy double doors and strode up to a mural that covered a broad space along one of the walls. 

The smooth plaster was adorned with a dizzying array of labeled and interconnected squares and elegant scrollwork. Each small box bore the name of a member of the large and sprawling Malfoy family. Down the center between hundreds of other branch-offs ran the main line of the house dating back to the noble Reynard de Mal-Foi who had come to England as a sorcerer with the armies of William the Conqueror. His name almost touched the ceiling. Towards the floor the line currently ended with Draco Malfoy as the last direct heir.

Above his square Eleanor saw the name of Lucius Malfoy. The box that represented him was outlined in broad black to indicate that he was the current head of the family. A double ring that had connected him with the name of Narcissa Black was broken to indicate that the marriage had been dissolved, but surrounding her name still appeared a few generations of Black family members to indicate the other half of Draco's blood line.

Lucius turned to his companion. "It's time we gave you and your family the space they deserve here." Eleanor broke the old seal on the ribbon that held the scroll she had retrieved from her vault at Gringotts and unfurled the parchment. The blond wizard looked over her shoulder to survey the Sartorius family tree drawn in amber ink on the heavy cream vellum. It looked almost like a shrunken version of the mural with the tiny painted squares holding different names and connections, of course.

Eleanor cast a sideways glance at him, taking more interest in the intensity and focus with which he examined her bloodline than in the document itself. After a childhood away from the oppressive and often violent past of her old house she found she did not much care about her ancestry. Of course with Lucius this was a different matter.

She did not share his disdain for muggles and muggle-related people, but knew him well enough by now to refrain from trying to change him. When she had accepted his proposal of handfasting on her birthday earlier that year she had known it had to also be an acceptance of who he was, with his tremendous capabilities as well as his glaring flaws.

"Impressive," she heard him say as he pointed to some of the names. "There, this sideline shows you are related to Cornelius Agrippa. You can truly be proud of your name. This reads like a 'Who's Who' of continental magical history! Let's get this up on the wall." She shook her head, suppressing a grin. He sounded just like a proud hunter ready to nail another trophy above his fire-place.

Still, she held the parchment for him as he now pointed his wand at the lettering and incanted a duplication spell that lifted a copy of some of the little boxes, leaves and branches from the paper. With small jabs he directed the floating ink to the wall where the drawing expanded and the lettering developed a momentum of its own. The labeled squares zoomed around the mural and found their new places among the Malfoy family tree.

Eleanor noticed that some of the people had already existed in the drawing before and the newcomers blended with the older writing merely causing new branches to flourish and new connections to grow. She watched in fascination as for a moment the whole picture seemed to come to life and rustled like a living, growing tree in a breeze. Her own square sidled up to the box that bore Lucius' name and playfully bumped up against it several times before finally settling down at its side.

As the whole mural stilled, the amber color of the Sartorius family names slowly darkened to black. Eleanor had just started to roll up her parchment when she suddenly felt Lucius lean forward with a hiss and stab his wand at a square slightly above her name. He looked back at her in complete surprise. "I don't believe it, Eleanor," he said, his voice sounding rather accusatory. "Why have you never told me? It can't be possible!"

The red-haired witch felt a brief tremor of panic run through her as she leaned in to examine the part of the family tree that Lucius pointed out to her. She fervently hoped she was not somehow related to someone called Smith, muggle extraordinaire.


	4. The Mirror and the Web

**The Mirror and the Web**

_"A family is like a forest: if you are outside it seems impenetrable; if you are inside you find each tree has its space." (Akan Proverb)_

Eleanor's eyes followed the line of Lucius' wand; and to her surprise he was pointing at a name that positively exuded wizarding flavor. "Desiderius Wermuth," she read with some measure of relief and looked at him with a raised brow. "What about him?"

The blond wizard stood up straight and sheathed his wand. "You haven't heard about the work of the famous Mr. Wermuth?" His explanation was interrupted by the clatter of porcelain that sounded quite insistent in the huge, high-ceilinged room. Eleanor looked around to see a house elf set out a small table near one of the windows for tea.

She felt Lucius hand against the small of her back. "Perfect," he said. "Let's sit down for a bit, and I will tell you what I know about Mr. Wermuth. And then perhaps you can tell me why he is listed as your maternal grandfather when everyone who has read his famous biography knows perfectly well that he never married and died childless."

He walked her over to the window and helped her into her chair before dismissing the elf with an impatient wave. Eleanor poured them both some tea and then looked expectantly at her lover. "So, what is so special about this 'famous' wizard?"

Lucius took a sip and cast a calculating glance at her over the rim of his cup. "On second thoughts," he said. "Why don't you tell me first what you know about him? After all, he was your mother's father, you must know at least something."

She gave him an indulgent smile. Of course he would try to turn the tables on her, even on an insignificant matter like this. "Fine," she humored him and picked up a small cucumber sandwich.

"This is actually rather a juicy tale, like so many in my family's history. Tradition has it that my grandmother Matilda was quite an adventurous and independent witch in her youth. Instead of searching for a husband once her schooling was complete, settling down and having children, she announced to her family that she was not happy with her level of knowledge and power and that she wanted to become an apprentice first.

You can imagine that her behavior was regarded as quite shocking and outrageous in her time when only wizards became apprentices, and that it caused her parents much grief and embarrassment. But as in so many other things she got her way. In this case she just packed some clothes, her magical possessions and some of her father's galleons and left home in secret one dark and stormy night.

She traveled all the way from Innsbruck in southern Germany to Basel in Switzerland, and one morning arrived on the doorstep of Mr. Wermuth whom she asked to teach her the arcane art of fashioning instruments for skrying. Obviously, the master wizard was rather taken aback by this unusual request, and his famulus, a wizard by the name of Sebastian Ruetli, tried to dismiss my grandmother with some rather arrogant and insulting remarks.

Matilda promptly turned him into a toad, whereupon Mr. Wermuth showed himself suitably impressed by her abilities and attitude and accepted her as his apprentice. My grandmother gracefully returned Mr. Ruetli to his former shape – she would have to do this several times more over the next two years as the famulus and her never really hit it off – and moved in.

Whenever my mother told me the story she grew rather vague at this point, but I had occasion to see a portrait of my grandmother at the old Sartorius house in Cologne and I think this it how it happened:

Picture a young witch of about twenty or twenty-one, slightly buxom, with an impish smile, waist-long chocolate-brown hair, deep blue sparkling eyes and all her curves in the right places. She is intelligent, funny and determined, following her master quickly and aptly in her skills and learning fast."

Lucius interrupted her with an exaggerated leer. "Picture her? I already wish I'd met her!"

She playfully tapped his shin with her foot under the table. "Behave yourself, Lucius! You're talking about my dear deceased grandmother. I'm afraid her descendant will have to do."

The wizard leaned forward. "Well you seem to have inherited some of her traits, particularly the part about being headstrong and having all the right curves in all the right places," he growled and wriggled his eyebrows at her.

She shook her head in mock exasperation. "Do you want to hear this story or not?"

He lifted a placating hand. "Of course, but you must promise me to pursue this sideline further, say, perhaps tonight?"

She finally had to laugh. "Promise," she said. "Provided you remind me nicely."

He smirked at her. "Let me surprise you…"

Eleanor suppressed an anticipatory shiver of pleasure, took a sip of tea and resumed her tale.

"Well, anyway, it appears that after about two years Mr. Wermuth was so impressed with his young apprentice that at the sprightly age of one-hundred and twenty-one he decided to break the habit of a lifetime and become my grandfather."

Lucius' eyebrows shot up. "One-hundred and twenty-one!" he exclaimed. "Well, I always knew that Mr. Wermuth was an exceptional wizard, but that is a rather extraordinary feat. Now I am really jealous of the man!"

Eleanor grinned. "What? Do you think you won't be still alive and capable when you have reached that tender age? I am very disappointed with your lack of faith in your prowess. Are you trying to dissuade me from marrying you?"

The wizard gave her an appraising glance. "You know, I am sure all this can be attributed to the – ah – talents of your grandmother. So once I have married her granddaughter, I am certain I can look forward to a similar experience."

She took a bite of her sandwich and Lucius watched her eyes crinkle with amusement. "You know, in that case you might not like the rest of the story. It seems old Mr. Wermuth had soon overtaxed himself, because he was found dead in his bed a little while later, with an expression of serene peacefulness on his face.

Matilda stayed on for a few more weeks, but ended up fighting so badly with the famulus that she finally packed her belongings and a few items Mr. Wermuth had left her in his will and made her way home to Innsbruck, where her parents eventually took her in, only to find out to their embarrassment that their daughter had brought back one other souvenir from her apprenticeship: she was now pregnant with my mother.

She decided to have the baby and her parents tried to keep the whole shameful event under wraps by pretending that her daughter was really my grandmother's sister. Matilda played along until she felt that both she and the baby were ready to travel. She then left Innsbruck for the last time in her life and moved to Cologne, where she found employment as a governess with the Sartorius family. My mother and my father grew up together as children while my grandmother taught the Sartorius boys magic.

When Mr. Ruetli wrote his master's famous biography a few years after the events he did not mention the hated Matilda or the toad episodes at all. He was probably unaware that Mr. Wermuth had actually fathered a child shortly before his death. If he did know, he obviously chose to protect his master's privacy and suppressed the information. And that's how the famous Swiss master of skrying bowls and crystal balls ended up on my family tree."

Lucius looked quite thoughtful now. "Do you know anything else about your grandfather's work?"

Eleanor drained her cup of tea. "Outside of what the Ruetli book mentions, you mean? Not really. My grandmother had already been dead a few years when I was born and my mother and father were making an effort to live like muggles, remember? So telling me tall tales about wizarding grandfathers wasn't really part of their educational concept."

"Yes, regrettably so," nodded the blond wizard. "Let's go back to the family tree. I want to show you something."

He led the way back across the empty, echoing floor to the mural and scanned the complicated branch-work of the vast drawing. "Here," he said, and Eleanor saw his slender fingers point to the names of his parents. "Lavinia Malfoy, my mother, had an older sister, Cassandra, who was married – over here – to Theobald Wermuth, a nephew of Desiderius." His hand traced out the connections.

"Now, through these relationships my family always knew that Desiderius had a second talent that he managed to keep hidden from the public: he was a very capable mirror maker. In fact, in his sixties he crafted a mirror of unsurpassed power, a mirror he secretly sought to replicate in his later years. In this he failed, despite all his efforts. The mirror was called the Mirror of Battle."

Eleanor looked at her lover. "Neither the Ruetli biography nor my family ever mentioned anything about a mirror," she said.

"Well, they wouldn't," answered Lucius. "The Mirror of Battle is supposed to be a formidable magical weapon, the use of which was forbidden even at the time Wermuth crafted it."

She sighed. "A weapon, and a banned weapon at that! Why am I not surprised you know about something like that?"

Her lover stared at the family tree for a moment. "Because I researched what I could in order to gain leverage and influence with Lord Voldemort after his return. We believed at one point it would prove to be a means to defeat Potter, Dumbledore and his miserable band of meddlesome do-gooders."

The red-haired witch paused. "But you didn't. Why not?"

"Because we were unable to find it. Wermuth put a 'blood of kin' spell on many of his magical possessions. Only members of his blood-line could locate them, and the last known member of his kin was Cassandra's son, who died eleven years agoshortly afterhe had accidentally picked up a female werewolf at a club outside Prague during a full moon. He never had a lot of sense. Anyway, she turned him and a month later the local auror squad took him out with a bunch of silver bullets."

Lucius clasped her arms. "But now here you are: direct descendant through your mother of the famous craftsman himself! Blessed be your adventurous grandmother!"

Eleanor kept her face carefully expressionless as she looked at her future husband. "You do not mean to retrieve the mirror to get back into Voldemort's good graces, do you?" she asked slowly.

His pale grey eyes widened, then his lips compressed in anger. "Of course not! How can you even think that? Above all I am Malfoy. Threaten my house and I will be your sworn enemy. I will never ally myself with Voldemort again, as long as I live."

She laid her hand on his chest with a smile. "_Nemo me impune lacessit_," she quoted the Malfoy family motto. "The serpent will always bite the heel of the one who tried to set foot on it."

He laid his hand across hers. "We will retrieve the mirror to defend this family and to keep us safe. We will make the Dark Lord himself fear us."

Lucius paused, reaching for her and turning them both towards the mural again. "Look at this," he said, and she felt the passion in his voice. "The dreams, the pain, the love, the magic that are woven into this tapestry of lives! And we will continue it – for your house and for mine."

Eleanor craned her neck and looked up at the mad tangle of names that filled the wall; and for a moment she thought she could see patterns and a destiny, warp and woof of generation after generation, a living, breathing work of art with every life stitched into it in the colors of cruelty and mercy, laughter and tears, love and hate, achievement and failure. She felt strength in this pattern, a life-force that would not be denied.

She nodded slowly, finally understanding the man who stood at her side: the past mattered, family and ancestry mattered; but she also knew that she would always view the odd muggle in this fabric as an enrichment, like a curious bead or a whimsical piece of embroidery perhaps, whereas to him it would never be anything but a stain of shame.

His voice broke her reverie and she realized that his thoughts had taken an entirely different turn: "It's time we began making plans for the handfasting."

She looked over at him and lifted a brow in surprise. "Don't you think we have rather a lot on our plate at the moment?" she asked. "After six years I don't mind waiting for a few months more to make sure we don't have a bunch of uninvited Death Eaters show up at the ceremony."

Lucius shook his head. "Don't you understand, Eleanor?"

He indicated the family tree with a lift ofhis chin. "This is all we have. This is all we are. This is what makes us strong. If we are family, if we are Malfoy, we can defeat anyone. We always have, throughout the ages, through the centuries of persecution and the Time of Burning until this very day."

The witch felt warmth spread through her at the earnestness of his confession that he truly wanted her by his side as his wife. She had to admit that he had a point. They were hopelessly outnumbered, and being aligned as loyal members of a fighting team gave them the best chance they had against Voldemort's servants, who were mostly impelled by fear and selfishness.

She turned and faced him. "Then let's do this quickly," she said, adding with a grin. "We could always elope…"

For a moment he caught her mood and pulled her against him. "Now you're talking," he growled as his lips captured hers and his hands slipped into her robes.

She sighed, feeling the stress, fear and anger of the day dissolve at the taste of his mouth and the solid feel of his body as she wrapped her arms around him.

As she expected him to deepen the kiss, however, he pulled back, so he could again focus on her face. "But Malfoys don't elope," he declared firmly. "And neither should Sartorius."

She blinked, licked her lips and cleared her throat. "They don't?" she asked, feeling a stab of annoyance at having to talk again when she could think of a dozen better uses for her tongue just now.

His grip on her tightened to emphasize his point. "No, they don't," he repeated. "They invite all those witches and wizards who are now whispering and gossiping behind our backs every time we turn around, who give us dark looks and secretly gloat at the demise of the house of Malfoy, all those who think we are a disgrace and that we are finished.

We will not slink about and crawl and hide and avert our faces in embarrassment. We will throw a wedding that will become proverbial in the years to come. We will feed these people on delicacies that will make the food of the rest of their days taste like ashes. We will present a Manor that will make the men frown in anger every time they pick their last measly galleon out of their purses. We will have you wear robes that will make every witch green with envy at the sight of their own most expensive fineries."

Eleanor swallowed at the vehemence of his declaration of defiance. She doubted that it would make them many friends or allies in the months to come, but she remembered her annoying encounter with the two silly witches at _Flourish & Blotts_ and could see where he was coming from.

She had spent most of the summer at the Manor and occasionally at Durmstrang where the recent events in England were not viewed as particularly alarming or important. No one had treated her any different. But Lucius had tried to reestablish his position at the Ministry and resumed his business affairs over the past few weeks, and she could imagine to what extent he had been made to feel an outcast and had to put up with people's hypocritical sense of superiority.

She nodded and placed a quick kiss on his lips. "Fine Lucius," she said. "Let's knock their pointy wizard shoes off! I'm in! What's the date?"

He shrugged. "It'll take us a few weeks to get everything organized. You pick."

Eleanor did a few quick calculations and then smiled. "How about a date you're bound never to forget: Halloween, your birthday?"

For a moment he regarded her gravely, but then tightened his arms in an embrace around her. "I think I'd rather remember that day for something else than Narcissa's annual charity ball at St. Mungo's and the death of my mother. We'll make it the 31st of October. That will give us eight weeks to prepare."

He felt his lover shift against him. "Two months, and Durmstrang starts next week. It will kill us. You realize of course, we'll have to buy at least three additional house elves to pull this off, and we may have to threaten to pay them, too!"


	5. A New Defense Student

**A New Defense Student**

_"Never attribute to stupidity what can be adequately explained by malice." (Anonymous)_

The 2nd of September proved to be a cool, grey day. A light rain fell, darkening the red brickwork of St. Pancras Station in London as Lucius, Eleanor and Draco apparated behind a builder's portacabin that blocked half of a fenced off sidewalk just outside King's Cross. Lucius hissed as he found that he had materialized with his feet in the middle of a yellowish chalky mud puddle that now spattered his flawlessly polished boots.

He had reluctantly agreed to wear a pair of pinstriped trousers and a knee-long wool coat with slightly flared velvet-lined sleeves that could pass for vaguely mugglish if one didn't pay too close attention. He had even pulled his blond hair back with a simple black leather strap instead of his usual velvet bow. But he had insisted on his fur hat, and he had not parted with his silver tipped serpent cane. He still looked conspicuously flamboyant despite his grumblings that he was now indistinguishable from muggle scum.

Eleanor put her hand in the deep pocket of her long coat, slipped her fingers around her wand and vanished the dirt from her lover's boots before Lucius decided to pull out his wand from his cane in public. She had put on a pair of grey trousers, black ankle-high boots and a blue cashmere sweater. She remembered the wizard's appraising glance as she had got dressed earlier in the morning.

"Hideous," he had sneered, only half in mockery. "At least it makes me look forward to undressing you later on to get these muggle eyesores out of my sight."

Draco warily watched his surroundings standing guard over a pile of suitcases and a large cage containing Hermes, the Malfoy eagle owl, that had apparated alongside them. He wore carefully pressed trousers and a wool sweater in the regulation grey, green and black of Slytherin house. Over the summer his hair had grown out long enough so that he could now wear it tied into a small pony tail at the nape of his neck.

"Wait here for a minute," said Eleanor as she briskly walked off and returned a few minutes later with a cart for their baggage.

Lucius growled something about levitation spells and house elves as he helped his son to load his supplies. He carefully placed Hermes' cage on top of the suitcases and threw a large black silk cloth over it to hide the owl.

They cautiously made their way into the station glancing around them and spotting other wizarding families in more or less successful disguises making their way to the enchanted pillar between platforms 9 and 10. Before them a family consisting of a stocky, sandy-haired man, a tall long-faced woman in what looked like a purple dressing gown with ruffles and two blond girls all vanished into the masonry.

A fat muggle in a business suit who had just stepped off a commuter train seemed to watch them with a slightly dazed expression, then rapidly blinked his eyes, shook his head as if to clear it and waddled off in the direction of the exit.

"Go on, Draco," said his father, and all three of them followed the woman in the purple gown.

Eleanor took a deep breath as she stepped out of the grey light and stench of fast food and diesel fumes of the station and into the golden glow of steam and coal smoke of platform 9¾ where the Hogwarts express was waiting to take on its young passengers for the next school year.

Lucius leaned in and quietly talked to his son. "Now remember, Draco, you are completely unaware of any threats to your life. Treat Crabbe and the other Slytherins exactly as always. We do not want to give away the game and lose Professor Snape as an informant. Keep the bezoar hidden and don't mention it to anyone. Don't forget to drink the bezoar water every morning. And make sure you inconspicuously hold your hand with the ring over any dishes you plan to eat and watch the stone very carefully…"

The younger Malfoy laid his hand against the older man's arm. "Father," he said, half annoyed at the barrage of instructions. "I know. We've gone over it at breakfast, remember? I can take care of myself."

Then he smiled as a realization seemed to strike him. "Don't worry about me, okay? I'll be fine. I'll write in the secret cipher you taught me, and I'll mail you using Hermes, like I promised."

Lucius took a deep breath and ran his hand over the collar of his coat before pulling off his right glove and formally holding out his hand to his son.

"Very well, then, Draco. Be vigilant, remember your family and do the Malfoys proud this year. No matter what has happened, you don't have to take an insult from anyone."

Draco looked quite solemn as he shook the proffered hand, but then, on impulse, he let go of it, moved in and hugged his father. For a moment Lucius remained stiffly rigid, then he raised both arms, hesitated and returned the embrace.

As the two men stepped back from each other and Eleanor approached to take her leave of Draco she noticed a grim smile on both their faces that seemed like the badge of some secret understanding. She realized she was unsure all of a sudden how she should say her goodbyes. She somehow felt that by rights Narcissa ought to have been in her place to see off her son.

Repeating Lucius' gesture, she also stretched out her hand, only to find that the younger Malfoy had decided to hug her as well. For a moment she heard him whisper into her ear.

"Take care of him," he said. His voice sounded every bit as sure and commanding as that of his father. She briefly tightened her embrace to let him know she would.

Draco nodded one more time at both of them and walked towards the train without looking back. Eleanor watched him haughtily acknowledge a group of fellow Slytherins further down the platform and lazily cuff a Gryffindor boy two or three years his junior who had been inattentive enough to dare get in his way.

Lucius looked at her and sighed. His lips compressed in a grim smile. "Let's hope we've done the right thing," he said and offered her his arm as he turned to leave. Despite the effusiveness of Draco's embrace he would neither embarrass himself nor his son by joining the other parents on the platform and indulging in something as undignified as waving to the parting train.

They had almost reached the enchanted pillar when Eleanor suddenly heard a voice call out her name behind her. Both she and her lover turned and she saw a young woman in official robes detach from a group of aurors that had obviously been ordered by the Ministry to secure the safe departure of the train, now that everyone knew Lord Voldemort was back. "Professor Sartorius," she shouted as she ran up to them. "I'm so glad to see you."

Lucius soft sigh of "Merlin!" was lost in the quick clatter of her shoes and a moment later a young witch stood before them grinning excitedly. "Marigold Brannock," said Eleanor. "Good morning." The auror happily shook her hand, but quickly ducked her head and blushed under the wizard's quelling glance. "Morning, Mr. Malfoy," she mumbled, sounding rather intimidated.

The red-haired witch regarded Miss Brannock, who now started waving at someone among the other aurors to come and join them. Marigold had been one of her first Defense students at Durmstrang. She had proved to be very apt at her studies and after her graduation had become a fully commissioned auror for the Ministry of Magic in record time. Earlier in the summer she had been ordered to keep tabs on Eleanor to prevent her from assisting Lucius during his exile.

Eleanor had managed to escape her, causing Marigold to be arrested and rather severely beaten by the other aurors by mistake. Still the young witch seemed to have forgiven her for it and had been instrumental since then in securing Ministry help in order to protect Malfoy Manor and its inhabitants against Lord Voldemort. In exchange Eleanor taught Marigold and a group of her colleagues and friends Defense against the Dark Arts once a week. This very evening would be another workshop.

Lucius voice cut short Eleanor's train of thought. "Miss Brannock, we certainly appreciate your effort in running after us merely to wish us a good morning. But unless you have any other important news to impart that would necessitate our continued presence in an enchanted muggle railway station we would like to take our leave of you now." He sounded decidedly impatient.

"Um, yes, certainly," stammered the young auror. "I understand, Mr. Malfoy, sorry to delay you. But – I wanted you to meet someone, professor."

Another auror had left his colleagues and now strode over to them. Eleanor looked at a lanky young man in his mid-twenties with a shock of ash-blond hair, close-set hazel eyes and a rather narrow face.

He smiled at them and stretched out his hand as Marigold handled the introductions. "This is Marius Woollett. He has just joined us from the Edinburgh field office and would like to participate in our Defense workshop tonight if he may. Marius, this is Mr. Lucius Malfoy of Malfoy Manor and Professor Eleanor Sartorius."

Lucius demonstratively clasped his snake cane in one of his gloved hands and put the other one behind his back, but the red-haired witch shook the proffered hand and smiled back.

"Of course Mr. Woollett, I'd be glad for another student. We normally start at half past five and train until about seven. I would recommend you apparate in the company of Miss Brannock, as she knows her way around the wards that currently guard the Manor. Please wear comfortable robes that allow you to move with ease. I look forward to working with you."

The two aurors took their leave as the Hogwarts Express began pulling out of the station with some rather spectacular puffs of steam, and among all the waving, running and shouted goodbyes Lucius and Eleanor quietly turned and continued their way towards the exit.

"I can't help thinking," said the wizard, "that it's a very high price to pay for our protection to have the house invaded by a horde of aurors every week, half of them probably mudbloods. And on top of that Miss Brannock usually stays for dinner…"

Eleanor sighed as they reentered the muggle part of the station. "True," she replied. "If we had the house invaded by Death Eaters, we could at least be sure they are all purebloods – well, as long as Voldemort decides to stay home. Don't get me wrong, Lucius, I'm not thrilled at having that extra chore, and I could think of several better ways to spend the evening with you tonight, but for the moment I prefer it to the alternative. We have got some useful information and a lot of help out of this deal, so far."

They left the station and carefully made their way back to the sheltered spot by where they had apparated. Lucius pulled a small golden key from his pocket and held it out on the palm of his hand for Eleanor to touch. "_Portus_," he murmured with a last disgusted glance at the muddy wet pavement and the blue builders' cabin.

* * *

Eleanor watched a middle-aged witch with her hair in a long black braid gracefully sail through the air and with a yelp of surprise impact with a thick wall-padding made from griffin-feathers and dragonhide at the far end of the Silver Hall which on occasions like this served as a dueling room because of its generous size. She slid down the leather and landed in a heap on the polished marble floor. Her attacker, the young auror whom Marigold had introduced earlier at King's Cross quickly sped over to her to see if she was all right. 

"Don't run into the line of fire, Mr. Woollett!" shouted the red-haired witch, but it was too late, a badly aimed, but very powerful _expelliarmus_ spell cast by another student hit the wizard straight in the chest and catapulted him to the back of the room. He smashed through two of the large chandeliers in the process, leaving a trail of shattered crystal and silver in his wake. The wall-padding barely cushioned his impact, and he collapsed with a resonant smack on the floor.

"Stop! Everyone stop immediately," hollered Eleanor. "Wands down this instant!" She cursed under her breath as she ran over to the auror who slowly pushed himself up on his hands and knees shaking his head in a daze.

Her other students joined her. "Are you all right?" they called as they surrounded Marius Woollett.

"I'm so sorry," apologized the young witch who had cast the spell.

The auror blinked. "Yeah, I'm fine, I guess. My head hurts."

Eleanor crouched down and looked at him. "You have a shallow cut over your left eyebrow," she told him. "You better go and wash that out and put some myrrh ointment on it. There's a bathroom as you exit the ball-room on your right. The potions cabinet above the sink has some in it. It's labeled. Marigold can go with you."

Woolett was already back on his feet and steadied himself against the wall padding. He pulled out a handkerchief and held it against his injury. "It's no big deal, I'll be fine. I can manage without help. So sorry about the mess."

He walked off slightly unsteadily with his steps getting surer as he moved on. "Be back in a little while," he called to them.

The other students watched him. "Oh no, Mr. Malfoy's chandeliers," gasped Marigold as she noted how the wizard carefully stepped over the smashed pieces that littered the floor. "He'll _crucio_ us all when he finds out."

"Now, now," admonished Eleanor. "I won't have it rumored that Mr. Malfoy is in the habit of casting the Unforgivables. I have to say, though that I'm not impressed with Mr. Woollett's clumsiness. Everyone who calls himself an auror should know one doesn't run into the middle of a wizarding duel. Now we'll have to see if we can repair the damage."

She walked over to the first chandelier, pulled out her wand and pointed at the mess of twisted silver and glass at her feet. "_Lucernam repairo_!" she incanted and couldn't help but exhale with relief as the fragments lifted up in a whirlwind of sparks and rearranged themselves in their original state.

While she didn't quite expect a _cruciatu_s, she would have hated to have to tell her fiancé that she and her students – half of them probably mudbloods, as he had put it – had just demolished some seriously expensive antique silverware. She would have to ask the house elves to remove the chandeliers before the next training session, just to be on the safe side.

"Well, I think we've all had enough action for tonight," she told her students. "Let's spend the rest of the evening recognizing and blocking dementia spells. We've already begun practicing last week, but we need to get better. I'd like everyone to settle down with a partner facing away from each other so you cannot see when a curse is cast. Watch yourselves very carefully for any signs of incipient madness and perform the appropriate blocking spells. I'll help out if things get out of hand."

A few moments later everyone had taken their positions and apart from the odd hysterical giggle or demented bark or howl nothing could be heard but murmured curses and counter-curses. Eleanor watched the aurors for any signs of dementia that got out of control, so she could intervene, but otherwise found her mind wander.

The strain of the last few months was beginning to get to her. From the moment of Lucius' arrest and incarceration to this very morning when she had to watch him say goodbye to his son, knowing full well that he sent him directly into mortal danger there had barely been a moment of respite. She did not know for how long they would all be able to hold up. Currently they were steering a precarious course using alliances that were at best tenuous.

The aurors were helpful to a certain degree, but still knew that the man they protected had been one of the most avid Death Eaters himself. You could see in their eyes that they sometimes thought he deserved all that was coming to him. Even the new auror – Woollett – had shaken his head in disbelief, when Marigold had shown him the mural of the Malfoy family tree earlier before the workshop.

"Impressive," he had admitted after careful scrutiny. "We Wooletts only go back to about 1750 or so. But how can anyone with such an ancestry debase himself like that. – Meaning no offense!" he had added quickly, seeing the scowl of disapproval on his instructor's face.

"Well Mr. Woolett, you are still young. Let's hope that you will always make perfect choices in your life," she had answered.

Next to the aurors of course there were the members of the Order of the Phoenix. You only had to go down the list to realize there was little love lost between them and the Malfoys.

Albus Dumbledore – suspended by none other than Lucius himself, if only for a very short time. Afterwards Lucius had used any underhanded tactic he could think of to discredit the man.

The Weasleys – Lucius almost got their youngest child killed by Voldemort's old diary, and he had been in a physical altercation with Arthur himself, as she had found out from Draco the other day. For wizarding folk that was pretty involved. She herself had seen them trade venomous insults at the Ministry.

Nymphadora Tonks – Lucius' own niece by his former marriage. However, both held nothing but deep-seated contempt for each other. She had been able to observe them during Lucius' bail negotiations, and the scorn had been almost palpable.

The famous Harry Potter – the young wizard had been involved in the infamous magical duel with Lucius at the Department of Mysteries during which the boy's godfather had died, though not at her lover's hands. And in any case Harry was by now almost as famous for his epic rivalry with Draco Malfoy at Hogwarts as for surviving Voldemort's attack.

She hung her head: the list could be continued indefinitely. Surely all of them would get so much of a kick out of seeing their former enemy down that they could be hardly relied on to help at all.

The only man who had stood up to his word so far had been Severus Snape, powerful _occlumens_, Death Eater and spy for the Order, he had faithfully reported what he knew to Lucius and had helped them withstand a massed attack at the end of August because he had been able to forewarn them.

She admired him for his daring and for his loyalty so far. Still, even his true motivations remained hidden behind a carefully constructed façade of arrogance and cold, self-serving interest. Her latest encounter with him at _Flourish & Blotts_ had been typical.

He would taunt and sneer and assume the basest motivations in anyone – and then provide some real help in a fleeting moment of humanity as he had slipped her the note about the threat to Draco's life. He was an enigma to her – but she would take any help she could get. By Merlin, it was a rare thing to come by these days.

Her musings were abruptly cut short when suddenly an auror bolted by her on all fours, jabbering like a chimp on _accellerans_ potion. Obviously he had been overcome by a rather skillful delusion curse. Eleanor swiftly followed him with raised wand and shouted: "_Simulamentum dissolvo_!" The wizard slowly stood up straight with a dazed expression on his face and before he could say anything, a large clock at the far side of the hall struck seven.

Everyone got up and sheathed their wands. Eleanor quickly checked her students for any remaining spell damage – it wouldn't do to release a bunch of partially demented aurors back to their duties, and it would certainly win her no favors with the Ministry – and dismissed everyone with some homework until the next week. Libby the house elf showed up to accompany them out past the wards.

"Where's Woollett," the red-haired witch asked Marigold who had remained behind.

"I don't know," she said. "Hope he didn't have a fainting spell in the bathroom. I'll go check."

Just then the tall skinny auror reentered the ball-room and waved at them as he walked over. "Sorry to be late," he said cheerfully. "Was feeling a bit dizzy after the hit and went into the garden for a minute. Did I miss any fun?"

"Well, Mortimer thought he had turned into a monkey, that was good, but otherwise you might want to rush. The house elf is showing everyone out," said Marigold.

Woolett shook Eleanor's hand. "Thank you for tonight's lesson," he smiled. "May I come back next week?"

She shrugged. "Provided you don't try to get yourself killed again, certainly. Take care now. We'll see you next Thursday."

Woolett turned and quickly ran after the other students while Marigold and Eleanor took a few moments to tidy up the Silver Hall and then made their way down the echoing corridors of the Manor to the dining room where the house elves were busy putting the last touches on dinner.


	6. Exsanguine!

**Exsanguine! **

_"Le sang noble ne dira pas de mensonge. – Good blood will not lie." (French Proverb)_

Two house elves had just levitated a large porcelain soup tureen onto the spotlessly clean white tablecloth as the double oak doors to the dining room opened once more and admitted the Lord of Malfoy Manor himself. Eleanor smiled as she saw him. He would not deviate from protocol, even if the dinner guest proved to be only a mere auror barely out of her teens.

He had freed his long blond hair from the leather strap he had worn earlier that day and had dressed in an off-white silk shirt with an elaborate lace necktie. An emerald green damasked waistcoat and black pants and coat completed his wardrobe. With an appraisinglift of his arched brow he observed the two women who had already taken their seats at the dinner table.

Eleanor was acutely aware of the fact that she and Marigold both wore plain black dueling robes which consisted of soft pants and a button-up knee-long tailored coat. She cast a quick look at her former student whose hair was looking rather disheveled from her fighting and sighed inwardly. 'Beauty and the beasts,' she thought. 'And he's rubbing it in, and he knows it…'

However, Lucius did not comment on the slightly grungy appearance of his company. Instead he stepped over to his fiancé and kissed her formally on the cheek. "Excuse my tardiness, dear," he said gravely. "I had just received an owl with an important business message I needed to take care of." He gave a curt nod in the direction of the young auror before settling in. "Miss Brannock."

The house-elves meanwhile had begun filling up the plates with a wonderful warm and fragrant rosemary and barley soup. Nibbs offered freshly baked bread, and for a moment everyone concentrated on their meal.

Eleanor found she was rather hungry, and after she had finished her soup and the plates were cleared she looked forward to the main course as the elves filled their goblets with velvety red wine. Lucius lifted his monogrammed silver drinking vessel after a brief tasting. "To success in our fight," he said, and the two women repeated his toast and drank.

"So, Miss Brannock, what news since the last week?" was the wizard's next question. He was of the opinion that the auror ought to start earning her dinner now.

Marigold cast a quick, nervous glance at her former teacher and cleared her throat. "Well, Mr. Malfoy. There have been two Death Eater arrests over the last two days: Mr. Goyle and Mr. Jugson are back in Ministry custody."

Lucius nodded slowly. "I am surprised Goyle lasted that long. I would have thought you'd be able to apprehend him much faster. How did you find him?" He helped himself to some of the rack of lamb that the elves had now put before them.

"Well, he solicited a prostitute in Knockturn Alley, who unfortunately for him was an undercover auror observing Death Eater activities at the _Bats' Roost_ bed and breakfast. She actually haggled with him over the price for a blow-job for a few minutes and then had no problem putting a _petrificus_ spell on him," said Marigold regaining some composure.

Lucius chortled briefly in amusement. "Well, I guess he was missing the attentions of his wife, poor chap, now that all their houses are being watched by the Ministry. But still, he should know there are times in your life when you better keep your pants buttoned. At least he went out in his customary lack of style. Jugson surprises me, though. He should have more sense. Anyway, have they been questioned yet? Anything we need to know?"

Miss Brannock took a sip of her wine. "No, they are going to put them under Veritaserum tomorrow morning. I'll owl you if they reveal any information that has bearing on your security situation. We hope they can provide us with some new insights into You-Know-Who's latest plans."

The wizard gave her a curt nod. It seemed in his mind tonight's information had not really warranted having to share his dinner table with an auror.

"How did the workshop go?" he asked Eleanor. She swallowed a fork-full of potato and decided not to mention the incident with the chandeliers, but just as she opened her mouth to answer she blinked in shocked surprise.

A bloody tear had gathered on the lower lashes of Lucius' left eye, dropped and rolled down his cheek to land in a splash of vivid crimson on the immaculate white lace of his necktie. "Lucius!" she choked.

With an irritated gesture the wizard dabbed at the sudden wetness on his face and flinched as his eyes fell on the blood on his hand. "What in the name of Merlin…" Blood spilled over his lips as he spoke and he pushed himself away from the table.

"Oh goddess," cried Eleanor as she jumped up and ran over to him. He staggered out of his seat. His eyes were blinded now by the blood that suffused them. A soft groan of pain escaped his lips.

"By Azrael, I'm on fire," he moaned as he lurched towards the sound of her voice. She barely caught him and then felt herself pulled to the ground under his weight as his legs collapsed under him. Blood spilled everywhere now, flowing out of his eyes, nose and ears. She couldn't even make out the features of his face any more. His breath came in choking, labored gasps, and she suspected that blood had begun to fill his lungs, suffocating him. She knew she had almost no time left.

"Marigold, alert St. Mungo's! I will try _empathicura_ to keep him stabilized. This looks like some blood poison. We will both be in a bad way when the mediwizards arrive. I'm counting on you!" She didn't even wait for the auror's assent, but began to concentrate on her healing skill she had learned so many years ago as a student at Durmstrang.

The man in her arms convulsed. She cried out loud in fear. "I am here, Lucius, I am not going to let go. Hold on! Just hold on!"

It took all of her willpower to focus and to override her own survival instinct. This might very well cost them both their lives. "_Empathicura_!" she intoned and began to absorb his injuries into herself. Immediately she felt as if every cell in her body had just been immersed in acid. She gave a hoarse shout of pain as she sensed blood fill her mouth and blackness took her.

* * *

Lucius Malfoy awoke in complete darkness. Every nerve in his body was screaming with agony. '_Cruciatus_,' he thought for a brief, panicked moment. Someone had him under the _cruciatus_ spell. The Death Eaters, Voldemort, had finally got to them. 

"Eleanor!" he gasped, feeling the sickening taste of blood on his lips as he moved his tongue.

A moment later the darkness was lifted from him as someone removed something wet and heavy from his face and eyes. He blinked up into some red-tinted blurriness that looked vaguely like a human face.

"This one's come to," said an unfamiliar female voice. Another darker oval swam over him as someone else was peering down at him.

"Well, let's sit him up," answered a man. "We don't want him to choke on his blood again."

Hands lifted him under his arms and unceremoniously pulled him up into a half-way upright position as he groaned in pain. Moving hurt like hell. Someone pushed some pillows down his back for support and the female voice said. "Hecate, he is still hemorrhaging. We're running out of _leucographus_ elixir here pretty soon, particularly with her needing so much of it, too. This stuff is evil!"

He tried to talk, but all that came over his lips was a horribly wet cough and what tasted like yet more blood. He felt something cold and metallic lifted under his chin. "Well, I'll tell Dr. Septimus in Potions to make more elixir. We have to keep them both going until we have found and prepared the appropriate antidote. Whoever mixed this poison is a Dark Arts master of the craft."

With a rustle of robes the male person left and he felt the woman who had spoken before pass a wet cloth over his face.

For a moment his vision cleared and he saw a small witch in her late forties in mediwizard robes perched on a chair at his side. She had her pepper and salt hair pulled back into a severe bun and peered at him over a pair of steel-rimmed glasses. In her hands she held a bloodied towel. He blinked and focused.

"Mr. Malfoy?" she said looking him over.

He nodded, unsure of his voice and unwilling to just cough up more blood.

"Can you tell me how you got poisoned? What did you swallow?"

Now he had to talk. "Don't know. During dinner?" he managed to squeeze out, then took the metal dish from her that she had held under his face before and spat out another mouthful of his blood.

"How is Eleanor?" he asked when he could speak. His vision began to blur again.

Impatiently he dashed blood from his eyes, noticing that the sheets that covered him looked like nothing more than scarlet, sodden rags. The pain had receded a little, but now he felt horribly weak and dizzy and nauseous from the taste of his own blood. He tried to take in the room and gasped in shock as he saw a bed standing next to his, the sheets soaked in the same terrible red. A shock of blood-drenched hair spilled down one side of the pillows and the few strands that still remained dry bore a striking coppery color.

He tried to lift himself up and sank back with a sickening, lurching sense of weightlessness. "Eleanor!" he said again, and then with his last remaining strength grabbed the mediwitch by her robes.

"Damn you, woman! Tell me how she is!"

The witch had no trouble freeing herself from his grip and got up. She looked down sternly at her patient as she stepped around the bed and pulled shut some curtains that separated the two beds.

"She lives," she said curtly and then busied herself at a small table out of his view.

He heard her voice through the fog of weariness and pain that seemed to overtake him again. "She saved your life, she and the auror who brought you in. Appears she is a trained _empathicurus_ – pretty rare skill. She got in so deep while absorbing your injuries, she almost died. But she had no poison in her. At least we don't have to find an antidote for her. Once her internal lesions heal, she'll be fine. However, if we don't manage to brew up something to counteract the poison in you, you might continue bleeding indefinitely for all we know."

He felt her step up to his side as blood blinded him yet again. "Here, drink that!" she commanded him. He grimaced as he swallowed more blood.

"What is it?" The rim of a cup rested against his lips and he drank down some thick, sickly sweetish liquid as the witch explained.

"_Leucographus_ elixir. It helps your body replenish your blood. We estimate the poison causes you to lose about two pints every hour. We're running low, though. And anyway, even with the potion your body will be exhausted after about one and a half more days. You'll simply bleed to death."

Lucius couldn't be sure, but he thought he heard some small measure of self-righteous satisfaction in the woman's voice. He sank back into the pillows with a groan. Obviously bedside manners were not reserved for ex-Death Eaters. It rarely surprised him. At least Eleanor would live.

She had performed _empathicura_ for him once before, on a cut on his arm, an insignificant injury in comparison to his current state. He couldn't even begin to imagine what she had put herself through this time.

As his mind submerged back into half-unconsciousness, part of him remembered her facing him sitting on the living-room floor of her small house in London, the seriousness in her deep green eyes as she had told him she loved him. Part of him tried to solve the riddle of how he got this damn poison into his system.

If he found the bastard who had done this to them, he would personally see to it that the guilty party got an intimate taste of every curse and torture technique he had ever learned from his father and the Dark Lord himself.

* * *

The next time he remembered anything he felt a soft, cool hand against his forehead as someone gently wiped a cloth over his mouth and stroked his blood-drenched hair. The touch felt very different from the forceful, businesslike movements of the doctors and he opened his eyes. 

The face smiling down at him looked deathly pale, exhausted and lined, but he would have recognized it anywhere.

"Eleanor," he rasped, trying to smile back, knowing full well he looked like nothing more than a hideous image of butchery and slaughter. Nevertheless his lover bent down to him and placed a kiss on his forehead.

"It's okay, Lucius," she said. "Just stay strong for a little bit longer. They have analyzed the poison and they are mixing an antidote as we speak. You will make it. Just hold on. Just hold on…"

He saw the worry in her eyes that she tried to hide from him and squeezed her hand. "I want to live at least long enough to kill the poisoner," he gritted out. "Do you think I'll allow myself to die before I am avenged?"

She shook her head, her smile reaching her eyes now. "Malfoy vengefulness and stubbornness," she sighed. "This time they will actually keep you alive, Hecate's blessings!"

"Help me up," he told her and saw her nod as she felt the firmness of his grip on her forearms when she pulled him higher against the pillows.

"How's the pain?" she asked.

"It comes and goes, but better now," he said.

She leaned over to the side of the bed and lifted a glass beaker filled with some vivid green liquid. "It's time for your elixir again."

'Stay alive, _crucio_ the bastard,' he thought and drank his medicine without argument.

"Do we know how it happened, yet?" he asked Eleanor as she put the potion back. She wiped his face once more and then settled into the chair by his bed.

"I know a few things," she explained. "Marigold came round with Nibbs and some fresh clothes about four hours ago when I was finally getting myself back together. When you collapsed last night she flooed in an alarm to the Ministry and got some mediwizards on the site after I tried _empathicura_ on you. That didn't work so well, but the staff here say it probably bought you the time they needed to stabilize you.

The mediwizards took us away, but she had aurors go over Malfoy Manor with a fine-toothed comb all of last night and this morning. They found only one thing: poison residue on the rim of your dinner goblet, and your goblet only. No other spells, no traces of forced entry, nothing. The scary news is that it seems that someone who had a right to be in the house, who had been told the wards, decided to kill you."

She paused, looking at him. He coughed up some blood. "Well, that's a short list," he answered grimly. "You, me, Draco, four house elves, Miss Brannock and two of her auror guards and Severus Snape, that's it."

Eleanor looked at him, lost in thought. "Well, rule out the house elves. They cannot harm their own master, even an _imperius_ does not compel them. All of the others could have acted under an unforgivable." She paused.

"That includes myself," she added soberly. "Both Marigold and I submitted to an _imperius_ detection spell, and we both came up clean, as did the other two aurors. Draco and Severus have an alibi. Everyone saw them in the Great Hall at Hogwarts celebrating the beginning of term the entire evening. Believe me, the aurors have already checked into that. And we are all stumped."

Lucius seemed to be considering this, though it was hard to read his face underneath its covering of fresh and congealing blood.

"There is one clue we have," he said slowly, his pale eyes looking at Eleanor intently. She met his gaze without flinching.

"Who made damn sure that every single bit of protection we ever had against the use of poison would leave Malfoy Manor and go to Hogwarts with Draco? Who left us defenseless against this sort of attack? Who played us?"

His fingers reached for her hand, squeezed it for emphasis.

"Who?" he asked again.

He saw her eyes go wide in shock. "Severus – his message in Diagon Alley! You don't think…?"

His lips compressed in a grim smile. "I heard the mediwizards talk earlier – the poison really had them confused. They said a Dark Arts master of potions made it. I'd expect it's not something you'd buy off a shelf, not even at _Borgin and Burke's_."

Lucius saw disbelief in his lover's eyes.

"Lucius, he warned us against the attack in August, he has done nothing against Draco, we have not caught him lying to us once. I can't believe…"

The wizard felt another sickening wave of blood suffuse his mouth. This time he simply turned his head and impatiently spat the coppery-tasting liquid over the other side of the bed. The damn place looked like an abattoir anyway.

"Think! Would he compromise his position in the Order by harming one of Dumbledore's charges? He's not that stupid. He also needed to gain our trust by feeding us information. Who says the attack wasn't a feint anyway? I am telling you, he is playing both sides. Merlin knows where his loyalties really lie. Don't you dare defend him! It doesn't matter he didn't come to the Manor himself, the plan has his name written all over it. He drew our defenses off and he mixed the poison."

Lucius sank back into the pillows with exhaustion after his outburst. His lungs felt on fire and pain threatened to take over again. He concentrated on ignoring it, closing his eyes. The next moment he sensed the mattress dip and cool hands cradle his face. Her voice sounded close and soothing.

"I believe you, Lucius," she reassured him as her thumbs gently wiped more blood from his cheekbones. "I truly don't trust anyone but you, but this is so hard."

With an effort of will he looked at her again and was appalled to see tears streaking her face now. She blinked angrily, but did not wipe them off.

"We cannot live like this, Lucius," she said. For a moment she regarded him, then suddenly turned away.

"_Accio speculum_," she commanded and faced him again, now holding a square mirror that had hung over a small sink at the far end of the room.

"Look at yourself! Look at what they did to you! Look at what I have had to see!" she said, her voice breaking on a suppressed sob, her body shaking.

He was unsure whether she trembled in fury or with an effort to keep at least some of her composure. The next moment he was absorbed in the image of horror that stared back at him out of bloodshot eyes from the depth of the looking-glass.

His face was covered with a smeared patina of fresh, drying and flaking blood. No one could have guessed that the wet gory tangles that limply hung around his temples were normally pale blond in color. He found he recoiled at his own likeness in shock and disgust. The mirror quivered in her fingers and he put a steadying hand over hers, then gently pushed down and lowered the glass.

"What will I have to see tomorrow? What is the next thing that will happen? Do I have to watch you die in my arms one of these days? I cannot do this. I can't stand it any more! We can't live like this!" Her voice had grown progressively louder and more agitated.

He watched as she got up from the bed and started pacing the narrow room. "So far I have been thinking about defense, about sitting it out, about lying low, just surviving this. After last night…"she stopped, looking at him intently, "After seeing you like this, after having the doctors tell me that we both barely made it, that you might still die, that just isn't enough any more."

She licked her lips. "I want revenge, Lucius. I want to kill these bastards. I want to get back at them for what they did. I want them to suffer! I don't think I have ever felt hate like that before. And I fear and hate myself for what I feel." Huge green eyes stared at him, wet with tears, yet blazing with fury. She held her hands clenched before her, her knuckles bone-white.

Lucius wiped blood from his face, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Yes, my love, yes: hatred, anger, revenge – you can finally understand," he said gently. "Don't hate yourself for your hate. Hate them instead. Revel in your darkness. Draw your strength from it. Don't fight it. Your hate will keep you alive."

She shook her head and sat down wearily. "It is not your true will. The one you hate governs everything. The object of your revenge is the one in control, not you."

"Yes, but have you ever tasted the triumph of it, the way it seduces you? If you could stand over someone as frighteningly powerful as the Dark Lord and he writhed at your feet imploring your mercy when you had none to give, what would you feel? What would it be like, after what he'd done to you and yours?" There was a gleam in his grey eyes now.

"Like you stood over your sister-in-law that evening in summer when you killed her, cursed the very skin off her living body," she answered softly, shuddering at the memory.

"You called me Lucifer then," he said quietly. "You saw the power, the terrible beauty of it, the strength and mastery. You said you feared me, even you, who knows me better than anyone, you, whom I have never harmed. It is also in you. It is in every one of us. It can render you invincible if you make it serve you. Don't fight it, love, let it happen."

She took a deep trembling breath and closed her eyes for a moment. When she answered she spoke with a new firmness and conviction. "I will find the Mirror of Battle for us," she told him. "We will turn and attack. We will not flee any more. If I have to become fire in order to fight fire, then so be it. I will let myself hate. I just hope I can find my way back when we are done."

At that moment the door to the sick room opened and Lucius watched several mediwizards enter followed by Miss Brannock and another auror. The first wizard, an older man with a long brown beard flecked with grey carried a slim vial filled with liquid of an intense sapphire hue.

"Mr. Malfoy? I'm Dr. Septimus, head of Potions and Remedies. I believe we have found an antidote for the philter that you ingested. I believe it was _exsanguinium_ potion, a very powerful poison, nearly always fatal."

Lucius was sure that the mediwizard felt mightily pleased with himself. He watched Eleanor step out of the way as Septimus filled a glass beaker with most of the blue antidote and passed the glass to him. The wizard held the liquid against the light for a moment, then sniffed the contents of the glass. He lifted an eyebrow. "So, Dr. Septimus, before I drink, I have one question for you: how strongly do you believe?" he asked.


	7. A Matter of Diligent Research

**A Matter of Diligent Research**

_"When all else fails, read the instructions." (Anonymous)_

Eleanor woke to the dreary sound of rain drumming against the high arched windows of the bedroom. For a moment she stretched among the silky, sensuous softness of the sheets that covered her, and out of habit her hand reached out to touch Lucius' sleeping form beside her. Her fingers encountered only cold emptiness, and she opened her eyes.

She looked up into the black muslin folds of the canopy spanning the broad bed. Grey, foggy dawn light filled the vaulted room causing the heavy furniture and draperies to appear like silent motionless ghosts. She shuddered, pulling the blankets close over her naked skin. At moments like this she missed him more than she thought she could bear. She was facing another day alone at Malfoy Manor, little more than a mere ghost herself among the endless rooms and empty, cold, echoing corridors.

The anger and hatred she had confessed to Lucius only a few days ago had burned down to bitter ashes covering the mere embers of her former fire. She found that the heat of revenge was hard to sustain, but the chill of her resolve to make her enemy suffer stayed with her and seemed to freeze out any other emotion.

Autumn this year did not just shroud the ancient trees of Malfoy Park but had taken residence deep within herself. She curled up under the protective covers closing her eyes and bargaining with herself for a few more minutes of warmth before she got up and made herself face another day. Still, the oblivion of sleep was lost now as memories began to crowd in on her.

The antidote Dr. Septimus had given her lover had shown no immediate effect, but over the following hours the bleeding had begun to slow down. They continued to treat Lucius with _leucographus_ elixir in small doses and more draughts of the antidote.

She had begged the mediwizards for clear answers, she had wheedled, she had threatened, but they still would not give her a definitive answer if Lucius would ultimately be able to beat the poison. So he continued his lonely battle against his enemies a virtual prisoner at St. Mungo's with three aurors guarding his room day and night against another attempt on his life.

She spent some hours every day with him, trying to shield him as best she could from her frustration and despair and would have taken permanent residence at the hospital, but he had urged her to continue pursuing their plans, and so she stayed at the Manor. Her first errant after her release had been to collect Draco from Hogwarts and to accompany him during a visit to the hospital.

She had encountered Severus at school when she had picked him up and had remained polite but aloof while her hatred had burned inside her at the potion master's feigned concern at Lucius' state of health. His hypocritical offer to advise Dr. Septimus on the antidote almost had her turn and yell at him in anger, to _crucio_ him until he gave up the secret of the poison, but it was not the time to strike yet.

Part of her remained still rational enough to know that they had nothing against her former colleague but suspicions and conjectures.

Of course the poisoning attempt had made the front page of the Daily Prophet, but still Draco had been ill prepared for the actual sight of his father. It had been hard to see the young man almost come apart with guilt at having taken the unicorn ring and the bezoar with him instead of having the magical items protect the older Malfoy.

When she looked at his pale, set face as he regarded his father she found that the arrogant, spoilt boy she had met when she had first come into Lucius' life had grown up quite a lot during the last few months. The ancient Malfoy blood seemed strong in him after all, and adversity brought out a strength and resilience in him she had not expected.

Her next errand had proved to be perhaps the hardest of them all: she had visited Durmstrang and resigned as Defense Against the Dark Arts Teacher. She felt she could not leave her future family at a time like this, and she certainly could not give her students her full attention in the way they deserved.

After over 5 years of calling the school in Iceland her home, of getting to know and to like her colleagues and students, letting go of her former life had been difficult. She remembered taking her last spell-books off the shelves in her office as her fingers trailed over the ancient dragon carvings that adorned the wood. She could smell the familiar pungent scent of peat-smoke from the fire-places and of sea-weed and surf from the nearby shore.

She held on to her last memories of the place with a feeling close to mourning. From now onwards the grey halls of ancient Malfoy Manor would be her home.

The rest of her chores proved to be a welcome diversion in comparison. Lucius had urged her to continue with the preparations for their handfasting. The stubborn hope with which he clung to that date at the end of October seemed oddly reassuring, and despite her own misgivings she was prepared to humor him, to pretend he would be by her side by then, his health and strength restored. The wedding seemed the one thing that pointed to their hope for a brighter future.

Most of the actual organization rested with Lewis Lark, Lucius' agent in London, Advocatus Tethering in his capacity as the family lawyer, and several select and rather expensive caterers. Eleanor enjoyed her cursory involvement in the design side of things. She pored over color schemes for fabrics and flowers, the menu selections, the choice of wines and liquors, the music, and the stationary for invites and place cards. A hideously pricey robe maker in Paris was working on her bespoke gown.

* * *

A soft scrabbling noise brought Eleanor back from her musings. She opened her eyes and watched Libby the house elf lay out some robes for her. She would have preferred to pick out her own wardrobe, but she found that it so offended and distressed the Malfoy elves that she eventually gave up. 

The magical creature noticed her moving and immediately prostrated herself. "Libby is most aggrieved," she cried. "Libby did not mean to wake mistress!" Eleanor watched the elf grab a hold of one of the legs of the bed ready to hit her head against it in punishment and quickly leaned forward to snatch her by her dress roughly stitched together from two old fabric serviettes. "No Libby," she commanded, setting the elf down on the bed. She shook her head, too tired almost to even bother.

"Just don't," she added quietly. "Don't hurt yourself. People are already getting hurt too much. Just go and leave me be." Libby gave her a worried look out of huge greenish eyes, catching her mistress' strange mood, hopped off the bed and scampered off without another word.

Eleanor shook off the blankets, indulged herself by slipping into Lucius' dressing gown instead of her own and made her way over to the bathroom. She closed the door behind her and halted in front of a silver-framed floor-length mirror. Slowly she let the fabric slip off her shoulders and looked at herself in the cool morning light.

The first time she had seen herself in this mirror had been six years ago after a night of abandoned love-making with Lucius. She had looked younger then, decadently disheveled, and had reveled in tracing the marks his attentions had left on her with a mixture of giddiness and pleasurable guilt.

Now an older, sterner face stared back at her, still pale from the brief time she had shared the poison ordeal with her lover. Her green eyes seemed to her to be those of a stranger. There was a glint of hardness in them, of cruelty, of experience and determination, she did not recognize as her own. Lucius had undoubtedly seen it when she had declared her wish for revenge to him, and he had understood it, had urged her to embrace it, to make it her own.

For a moment she lowered her gaze; then she looked into her own alien eyes again and saw her mouth harden in resolve. "If this is who I am to be, so be it," she whispered. "I can do this if it saves us. I will not fight myself over it."

Her glance fell to the side to a pale gold crystal bottle on a shelf next to the mirror. As every morning for the past six years she picked it up and weighted it in her hand. The dishonor of a bastard birth had been something neither her nor Lucius had ever been prepared to face, and every day she had faithfully swallowed a mouthful of the potion that had kept her barren.

Now she looked from the vial to her reflection in the mirror and back. Slowly she pulled the stopper from the glass and swirled the contents of the vessel before her eyes. Her reflection broke and danced in the cut crystal facets.

The next second a vision seemed to rise from the golden depths of the bottle and almost overwhelmed her in its intensity.

It seemed she again saw the family tree in the Silver Hall, and it appeared alive as it had been when Lucius had joined her blood-line with it. Branches swayed, leaves and tendrils rustled and whipped away from a group of black-clad figures that now approached carrying flaming torches with which they set a fire into the living wood of the tree. Names flared up, shriveled and fell to the floor as small flakes of ash while the fire consumed whole branches.

She saw the names of her uncle and his family that had died under Voldemort's curses over twenty years ago erupt in flame and dissolve, she saw Lucius' name, her own, Draco's. She gasped, but could not break her spellbound gaze. Finally the figures turned, tossed their torches into the dead firewood that remained behind and vanished.

"No," she whispered, feeling tears on her cheeks when suddenly the burnt-out ashes stirred and she saw small green shoots appear in the midst of the destruction. They stretched along the wall unfurling delicate green leaves and branched out towards the light.

The vision dimmed and she found herself staring at the glass vial in her hand again. "No more," she whispered. "We will survive. Our houses will not die with us. Where there is life, there is hope."

She slowly walked over to the sink and poured out the contents of the golden glass. When the last drop fell from the mouth of the potions bottle she felt that she had made a promise, not just to herself, but to both the Malfoys and the Sartorius.

There was a strength in it that seemed to surpass the former fierceness of her hatred in its power. Death would never defeat death, and death was all that Voldemort would ever be. But perhaps life could defeat death.

For the first time in days, for the first time since she had seen the first bloody tear stain her lover's skin Eleanor felt like herself again. She put the empty vial back on the shelf and her movements as she washed and dressed herself seemed sure and calm.

A while later she found herself sat alone at the long table in the old wood-paneled dining room that appeared even gloomier than usual during this foggy, rainy September morning. The house elves had lit candles and served her an elaborate breakfast she hardly tasted as she eagerly scanned the _Daily Prophet_ for any news about the Death Eaters.

Eventually she gave up and stretched in her high-backed seat. The portrait of Petronius Malfoy was regarding her intently from the opposite wall. "How's my great-grandson," he asked craning his neck.

Eleanor took a sip of tea. "You know, Petronius," she said with a small smile marveling at the self-assurance in her voice. "I think he will be fine. I think we will all be fine eventually. Hell, we Malfoys and Sartorius survived the Inquisition! This should be a walk in the park in comparison."

The old wizard in the portrait lifted an eyebrow in a manner that reminded her strongly of his descendant and nodded sagely. "Very good," he said. "It seems you are getting your spirits back. So will you be doing your weapons research today?"

Eleanor smiled. She had found the old Malfoy ancestor to be quite companionable during her lonely meals and had shared quite a few of her plans with him. The wizard possessed a sense of humor and a pragmatic mind that she found quite refreshing. He in turn seemed pleased that someone would take the time to actually talk to his portrait and involve him in their day-to-day life.

"Remember," he said now. "Half of what people write about magical mirrors is exaggerated, and what they should be mentioning instead they forget! I've seen wizards and witches tackle mirrors on book-knowledge alone, and the results have never been pretty." He adjusted his wig and begun filling a long white clay pipe.

* * *

After breakfast Eleanor concentrated on her plans for the day with new energy. She went to Lucius' study and settled down in front of his large oak desk. During her last visit to St. Mungo's he had told her where to look, and so she now gently laid her hand against one of the drawers and quietly mouthed the ward spells he had taught her. 

With a soft creak the drawer opened and she lifted a sheaf of papers out, only to reveal a wood intaglio of a knotwork pentagram at the bottom. She pressed the tips of the five-pointed star in the sequence he had given her and saw the false panel swing back and disclose a secret compartment that contained a slim notebook and some scraps of paper.

She picked up Lucius' research regarding her grandfather's Mirror of Battle, carefully arranged everything as it had been before and restored the wards. Then she tucked the papers and book under her arm and made her way along the carpeted corridor to the library.

Despite the fact that Lucius had dedicated a room next to his to serve as her study and had taken quite some pains to have it decorated and furnished in a manner that pleased her, she still loved the library above all the other rooms in the Manor.

Lucius joked sometimes that you could get a witch out of school, but you couldn't get the schoolteacher out of the witch and teased her on occasion for being such a bookworm, but truth be told, she loved the library as much for its quiet and scholarly atmosphere as for the memories it held for her. She had first met Lucius at the Manor in his library. The old shelves had seen their first kiss.

Now she pulled a broad comfortable reading chair over to one of the arched gothic windows that faced the garden and park still dripping with the grey drizzle outside, arranged a side table next to it and then hunted for an hour among the shelves using Lucius' notes.

Finally she settled in with a huge pile of old folios, spell-books and parchment volumes teetering on the small reading table. She kicked off her grey, beaked silk slippers, tucked her bare feet under the folds of her velvet-lined grey house robes, fixed her coppery curls in a lose bun on her head with the help of her wand and began to read.

There were books of mirror-craft, Dark Magical attack and defense, biographical studies on Desiderius Wermuth, a folio of copies of top secret auror documents from the German and Swiss Ministries of Magic (Eleanor didn't wish to know how the Malfoys had managed to obtain those), hand-written notes by Wermuth himself and a medley of other materials.

Lucius had been thorough in his research for Voldemort and she had to smile at his usual professed arrogant disdain for scholarly pursuits. He would have done any researcher she knew – whether muggle or wizard – more than proud.

Soon a clearer picture emerged in her reading, and she realized that the Mirror of Battle was a magical object unlike any other. It possessed the most powerful spell bundling capabilities she had ever come across in a wizarding mirror. If the research was correct, it could punch through any ward, no matter how strong, no matter how skillfully constructed.

If the owner on the other hand decided to use the mirror for protection instead of attack, it proved to be equally potent, repelling any evil spell, reflecting it back at the caster magnified and more damaging and lethal than before.

Interestingly enough the mirror demanded a choice of its owner, through. Whenever it changed hands the new wizard or witch who claimed possession was compelled by the mirror do declare it as either a weapon of attack or defense. Upon touching the Mirror of Battle with their bare hands for the first time the user had to state their intention once and for all. The mirror then remained locked in that mode for as long as its legitimate owner lived.

It was early afternoon when Eleanor lowered yet another book and rubbed her temples. Her eyes were thoughtful as she looked through the lead-glass windows at the muted grays, and autumn yellows of the park. The food that the house-elves had brought her a while ago stood untouched. If she could recover the mirror, how would she declare her intention?

'I want revenge, Lucius. I want to kill these bastards. I want to get back at them for what they did. I want them to suffer!' she had told her lover only a few days ago. Would she use the Mirror of Battle to attack, to try and bring Voldemort and the Death Eaters to their knees? Lucius had known how much allure that scenario held; he had urged her to embrace it. His words had been more seductive than she dared to admit, even to herself.

Dumbledore had given her different advice once, many years ago: 'Do not let the thought of revenge influence your decision. The Dark Arts have a way of turning against you if your motives are compromised. Follow your own will. If you merely seek revenge, the object of your revenge will still influence your actions.'

Attack or defense, which would truly reflect her will? Which would afford her family better protection? She let the book she still held slip from her grip and leaned her head against the backrest of the chair. The dragonhide upholstery creaked softly as she relaxed, feeling suddenly pleasantly tired.

* * *

The soft noise of a door closing made her look up in surprise. She heard a firm footfall among the shelves, and as she lowered her feet to the floor to get up she saw him emerge out of the shadows. He wore the dark blue robes she had taken with her to the hospital for him a few days ago. His hair covered his shoulders in its customary cascading mane of pale, gleaming blond. 

He now leaned casually against a bookcase, cocking an inviting eyebrow at her. His grey eyes sparkled with amusement and a smug smile curved his proud lips. She was on her feet in an instant. "Lucius!" she cried as she sped towards him. "What happened? You are back!"

He remained where he was, but opened his arms to her invitingly, and she threw herself against him, hugging him fiercely, drinking in his scent, the solid feel of his body against hers. Then she looked up.

"I did not expect you. You look well! How did they manage to cure you so fast all of a sudden?" She knew she was babbling, but her relief did not allow her to order her thoughts, she was so surprised.

"Never mind, sweet," he told her softly as he kissed her forehead and regarded her. "I am here. That's all that matters. You look like you have been busy," he added. He looked at her intently. "What have you been doing?"

She pointed at the books and began to excitedly describe her discoveries. As she talked, though, she became dimly aware that she was beginning to feel chilled, despite the fact that he still held her loosely in his embrace. She wriggled her bare feet on the floor and paused.

"And?" he urged her on, and she raised her eyes to him in surprise at the note of impatience in his voice. He sounded almost annoyed.

The next moment she recoiled with a stifled cry of dismay. The eyes that looked down at her in expectation did not show their customary silvery grey but shone with an eerie red light. For a moment she thought that the _exsanguinium_ poison had caused him to bleed again, but the slitted pupils that regarded her seemed entirely inhuman now.

She pushed back against his chest with the palms of her hands, trying to break his embrace, but his arms now pinned her in a vise-grip. "Tell me everything!" he hissed. "Speak!"

The planes of his face shifted imperceptibly until his mouth appeared as a lipless, cruel slash. His nose receded until merely two flat slits remained. She could feel the tendrils of an alien mind probe at the boundaries of her consciousness. "No!" she screamed, fighting his inhuman strength. She felt panic rise bitter as bile at the back of her throat. Her mind threatened to shatter into a million pieces.

And then, for a brief moment of clarity her Defense training took over. She balled her fists. "_Occlumens!_" she shouted with all the conviction and assertion of will she was still capable of. The grip of her attacker broke and a moment later she found herself back in her reading chair shaking violently.

She struggled to breathe and buried her face in her hands. She had dozed off and somehow Voldemort had been able to invade her dream, to get into her mind. It could have been none other than the Dark Lord. He had used her joy and relief at seeing Lucius restored to her to circumvent her defenses. He had dared to use her love against her.

"Merlin's wand," she gasped. "He knows. He knows about the mirror now. Goddess!" Slowly she got up and walked over to the tall window. For a moment she rested her feverish forehead against the soothing chill of the glass.

"It will be attack not defense," she said softly, her breath fogging the window. Briefly she saw herself stand over the prone form of her adversary, radiating dark power, ready to strike and curse. She took a deep breath and turned away. "Albus, I am sorry, but I cannot follow your path."


	8. The Spy

**The Spy**

_"Nemo unquam sapiens proditori credendum putavit. - No wise man ever thought that a traitor should be trusted." (Cicero: Orationes in Verrem. II, I, 15_

Lucius Malfoy was bored. It was Thursday again, and he had now spent an entire week at St. Mungo's. Even snarling at the nurses didn't lift his spirits any more and he gloomily stared at the ceiling. If one gazed long enough at the rough plaster without blinking, one could imagine one saw the shapes of dragons, griffins, and other grotesque magical creatures.

However, after an hour that game, too, got boring; and the nurses seemed to avoid him now when they could. He looked around the small sickroom. On his nightstand lay a crumpled-up, lightly blood-spattered copy of the _Daily Prophet_ which he had read earlier from front to back – twice. On top of it sat a metal spitting-bowl. The mere thought of blood these days nauseated him and he had decided that the most hideous fate that could possibly befall anyone would be getting turned into a vampire.

He had to admit to himself that with the help of the antidote he had made some progress over the last few days. Apart from the occasional and rather spectacular nosebleed his veins and arteries generally held together again. He only had to take one daily dose of the disgusting _leucographus_ elixir to counteract a mild case of anemia, and even his bed-sheets didn't look any more as if someone had been ripped apart in them by a mountain troll.

Lucius stretched, reached for a small brass bell on his bedside table and rang it. A minute or so later a nurse clad in lime-green robes stuck her head into the room. Behind her he could see the shadowy silhouettes of two aurors that stood guard before his room.

"Yes, Mr. Malfoy," the rather irritated nurse said. "What is it now?"

He suppressed a smirk. "I would like some tea and some apples, if that's not too much to ask."

"Mr. Malfoy, I told you before, I'm a medical professional, not your house elf. There are meal times at this hospital. In the meantime I can bring you some water."

"My dear girl," said Lucius with deceptive gentleness, "if you were my house elf, you would know it; I can assure you of that. As a matter of fact, you would be acutely aware of it, after you had dared to give me that kind of an answer. Surely the medical bill I am running up here each day is keeping you and half of the staff on the payroll. So be a little darling and get me my tea and apples, before I have a word with Dr. Septimus about your most unprofessional bout of flirting with one of the aurors yesterday. Mr. McNulty, wasn't it?"

The nurse huffed in frustration, but did not dare to aggravate her patient more. "Fine, tea and apples," she muttered and shut the door behind her with more force than was strictly necessary.

Lucius smoothed his long slender hands over his sheets and smirked to himself thinking about what else he could do to make his attendant's life miserable.

Just then one of the aurors poked his head into the room. "Professor Sartorius here to see you," he said.

"Thanks," replied Lucius sternly, "By the way, do you think it would be too much to ask of you to be polite enough to actually knock the next time round before you open this door?"

The auror merely rolled his eyes and ushered the visitor inside.

"I see you are working hard already at making friends, Lucius," she laughed. "You must feel so much better. In fact, you do look quite well!"

He stretched out his hands in greeting and smiled back as she stepped up to his bed, hugged and kissed him and then sat down at his side on the mattress. He kept his fingers entwined with hers and looked at her. She was wearing reddish-brown slim silk pants, matching tailored, knee-long robes with a subtle gold-brocade appliqué and a black velvet-trim cloak. Her hair looked quite endearingly wind-mussed and he stroked a few stray strands out of her face.

"You rode here," he said, shaking his head.

"Well, this infernal rain has finally stopped, and it's actually quite nice and sunny outside. I wanted to be out on a broom for a while. I still need to get yesterday's nightmare out of my head."

Lucius compressed his lips as he remembered. Eleanor had come to visit him the day before and had appeared visibly shaken by the Dark Lord's _legilimency _invasion of her dreams. She had told him about her mirror research and her vision of Voldemort, and her story had him quite worried.

Still, she had assured him that while the intruder had been able to uncover much of her knowledge about the Mirror of Battle, she had not revealed any clues about her ancestry. Her relation to Desiderius Wermuth was still not known to anyone but them.

He had eventually managed to reassure her that his former master had probably ended up about as wise as he had been before. After all, Lucius had freely shared his knowledge about Wermuth's creation when he had researched it for him. But Voldemort would still believe that the mirror was unattainable.

"Don't worry about it, dear," he told her again. "If you are really nervous about him finding out more, you could always use a pensieve to store your memories of the mirror before you go to sleep. There's one in my study in the large cupboard by the left window. It may still have one or two of my father's more unpleasant memories floating around in it, but you can delete those."

She nodded and ran her fingers over the backs of his hands. "So did Dr. Septimus talk to you this morning?"

Lucius' lips twitched briefly in annoyance. "Yes, at six o'clock, if you would believe it. No decent witch or wizard should even be awake at that hour. They wake you at five here, when the night-shift goes out, the doctors visit at six or seven, then it's breakfast, which is more to dread than to look forward to – and then they leave you till lunch-time. I'm more terribly bored than I have ever been in my entire life! They could at least let you sleep."

Eleanor tried not to smirk at the petulant tone that had crept into his voice. It didn't surprise her that he did not make a good patient. She was secretly glad that the hospital staff had to endure his moods rather than her and some house-elves back at the Manor.

"So, what did he say?" she asked.

"Well, he seems more optimistic, thinks I can probably leave the day after tomorrow if I'm able to keep all my blood where it's supposed to be. So far I seem to be down to one nosebleed a day. I'm sick and tired of it!"

Just then a nurse entered, carrying a tray that she set down on the bedside table. She acknowledged Eleanor and Lucius with a curt nod that seemed to imply that they had at some point killed and possibly eaten a member of her immediate family and vanished with a huffy swirl of her robes.

"What's gotten into her?" asked Eleanor as she leaned over to fill a cup of tea for her lover.

Lucius shrugged his shoulders and looked at her in bland innocence. "Beats me," he told her. "They are all this cheerful here. And to think that between Narcissa's charity work and my donations we've pretty much kept the whole damn place funded for the past few years… Bloody waste of effort."

For a little while they sat together, Lucius propped up against some pillows, she perched on the mattress of the bed, munching on apples, drinking tea from his cup and talking about nothing much in particular.

Eleanor told him about her plans for the Defense workshop later that day and about the progress she had made with her research into the Mirror of Battle. She allowed herself the luxury of the pretense that everything was going to be all right, and studiously avoided talking about the dangers that still surrounded them and about the poison incident that was now exactly a week old.

Just to see him slowly restored to health seemed enough for the time being. His icy-grey eyes were clear again, his face and hair washed and without any telltale stains, and the coppery-sweet odor of blood that had surrounded him on every one of her previous visits seemed to have finally faded. With a smile of relief she leaned in to kiss him and felt his arms surround her with his customary strength as he pulled her down to him.

* * *

The Silver Hall was illuminated by magically suspended candles this time. Mindful of the accident with the chandeliers the last time round, Eleanor had taken precautions. She now watched the arrival of her students setting out the last few props she needed for tonight's workshop. Marigold and Woollett stood over by the family tree mural, talking to each other. Two female aurors seemed to compare wands. Several people practiced warm-up spells and Libby and Nibbs scuttled back and forth between the front gate and the south wing to guide new visitors through the wards. 

Eventually Eleanor counted all sixteen of her students and called the workshop to order. "As I advised you earlier this week, we will be practicing some _legilimency _tonight. I hope you have all come prepared. As you are aware, You-Know-Who is one of the most powerful practitioners of this art alive today, and in order to defend yourselves, I believe you need to know more than what is provided as part of the current auror training sanctioned by the Ministry of Magic."

Her audience stared at her now. Her words seemed to indicate that she would touch on techniques that the Ministry either felt were unnecessary or that were possibly even forbidden.

"I'm not going to make you do anything illegal," she reassured them. "But over the next few sessions we will deal with _legilimency_ as well as _occlumency_. For example, you can't always rely on Veritaserum. What do you do if you have a suspect, who might lie to you and you do not have a warrant to use potion on him?"

People started offering up answers and a rather lively discussion ensued.

"Well, let me show you what I mean," Eleanor finally said. "Mr. Woollett, are you up for a demonstration?"

The young auror appeared rather uncomfortable now, but eventually stepped forward. "What are you going to do?" he asked, licking his lips nervously. If anything he looked rather guilty.

Eleanor felt a sudden stab of suspicion and realized her next words came to her rather unpremeditated. "Mr. Woollett, how about I asked you what you did last Thursday evening while you were here, and you try to lie to me?"

Woollett swallowed. "O-okay," he stammered. "L-last Thursday." He concentrated and tentatively began to speak, avoiding Eleanor's gaze.

She had an odd, weightless feeling in the pit of her stomach now. The idea had struck her quite suddenly, but had taken a firm hold on her imagination almost immediately. What if Woollett hadn't used the time he had been out of the dueling room for a stroll in the garden? Lucius had been busy suspecting Severus, but they still did not know who the actual poisoner was. Who had really put the _exsanguinium_ on the goblet? It was worth a shot.

"Well, I came here for the workshop. I arrived with Marigold, and we practiced disarming and blasting spells for most of the evening. Unfortunately I got hit by a spell. I fell down, but I wasn't much injured, so I just went and took care of my wound…"

So far this hadn't even been a lie, but as Eleanor concentrated on her student her _legilimency_ had already caught obvious traces of lying: she felt fear and discomfort and probed a little further breaking down the auror's rather weak defenses. Woollett's voice began to change.

"Actually that's not true," he said, sounding slightly slurred as if he was falling into a trance. "I, I can't remember what happened after I got hit. It's all a blank until I was back on the drive-way of the Manor. I'm making everything else up." He stared at her dizzily now.

Eleanor leaned it, capturing his eyes and fully forcing her will on him. She had not meant to bring the young man under her control to this extent, but his confession struck her as very odd. "What do you remember?" she asked. "The truth now!"

He shuddered. "N-nothing. It's all blank from the moment I hit the ground to the moment I left the house."

Just then the witch felt a hand on her arm. She broke off the contact and looked at Marigold who eyed her with concern. "What are you doing?" she asked. "You said 'nothing illegal', but we are not allowed to influence people like that. That is very strong spellwork."

Eleanor drew a deep breath. "You're right. I'm sorry. I went beyond what I wanted to demonstrate." She paused, and met the rather shocked eyes of her students. "Mr. Woollett?"

The young wizard snapped out of his trance.

"Mr. Woollett, my sincere apologies," she said and considered for a moment, then she took Miss Brannock by her sleeve. "Please excuse us a moment," she told the others and drew her former student to the side.

The auror leaned in to catch her urgent whisper. "Marigold, I'm too close to this, and I'm no auror, but I need to ask you to investigate this matter further. What if Lord Voldemort or another Death Eater put an _imperius_ on Mr. Woollett to make him poison Mr. Malfoy? What if he was obliviated? We know the poisoner was someone who was authorized to be on the premises. He was away from the Silver Hall for close to twenty or thirty minutes with no one to account for his whereabouts."

The young witch stared at her. "Great Merlin, you are right!" she gasped. "We could do a _detego imperium_ to check, and there are means to find out if he was obliviated." She straightened and looked back at her colleague. "Leave it to me, Eleanor."

They returned to the group, and Eleanor hung back and let Marigold handle the explanation. After all, checking a possible suspect was auror business.

Mr. Woollett appeared first outraged, then appalled by the suggestion that he might have become Voldemort's unwilling tool, but readily submitted to first an _imperius_ detection spell and then several checks for obliviation – without result.

Eventually Marigold lowered her wand and shook her head. "Nothing," she declared.

An older wizard spoke up. "Well, remember Woollett had a cut over his eye. He may have suffered a mild concussion. That sometimes makes people lose their memories."

Eleanor nodded slowly. "I suppose you may be right."

Woollett sighed with relief, but just then everyone stopped paying attention as the large marble fire-place flared up in lurid green flames and a head appeared, which hollered. "Alarm! Death Eater raid in progress at 64 Blackbird Lane in Newcastle! Ministry authorization for emergency call-up 473/C! Come on guys, we need everybody!"

Immediately everyone exploded in a flurry of activity grabbing wands and cloaks. "Wait," shouted Eleanor. "I'll lift the fire-place wards! You can all floo out from here. Take your floo-powder already – there in the urn on the mantelpiece."

She swiftly incanted the wardbreakers and was almost bodily pushed out of the way by the aurors who now all tried to get through the grate and to the other side to join the battle.

"I don't have my cloak, yet," complained Woollett, but Miss Brannock grabbed him by the collar.

"Never mind, Marius," she hissed. "We can pick it up later." She dragged her protesting colleague into the fire-place. "Sorry 'bout that Eleanor. Wish us luck!" she called, and then the last of the aurors had disappeared in a puff of green smoke.

The quiet in the great hall after the flurry of activities seemed overwhelming as Eleanor leaned against the mantelpiece and summoned her concentration to restore the wards. Tonight's workshop had been rather short and altogether quite disturbing.

She was torn between disappointment in herself for losing control in front of her students like that and invading Mr. Woollett's personal sphere, and frustration at the fruitlessness of her attempts to find the one responsible for poisoning Lucius. For a moment there she had been so sure that the young auror had been hiding a secret instead of just suffering from amnesia due to a blow to the head.

She sighed, turned away from the fireplace and summoned a house elf to help her tidy up the place. As the elf levitated the chandeliers back into position she picked up Woollett's discarded cloak. She considered sending it to London by owl and was just about to put a lightness spell on it, when something round and rather heavy fell out of one of the pockets. It hit the floor with a dull thud and slowly rolled away from her.

Eleanor dropped the robe and walked after it to retrieve it. When she bent down and picked up the object she found she held what looked like a round box carved from black soapstone. Its lid was closed with a delicate steel hinge and clasp and the fall had left a small whitish scuffmark on it.

Curious she twisted it in her hands, considered for a moment and then flipped open the clasp. She knew she should respect the auror's privacy, but somehow her suspicions had not been completely put to rest. As the lid opened she raised her brows in surprise as soft silvery light streamed from the inside of the small bowl, which seemed to be filled with a softly rippling liquid that reminded her of shimmering mercury.

"A portable pensieve," she murmured. She slowly walked over to a low stool, loosening her wand from its sheath and sat down. "What was so important you couldn't keep it in your head when you heard we'd be doing _legilimency_?"

She stared into the silvery depths of the small basin and moments later she saw the stored memories take shape before her mind's eye. Looking down at her out of slitted red eyes was a face she remembered vividly from her nightmare vision only a day ago.

"Voldemort," she whispered.

The white skeletal face moved and a hissed voice spoke. "You are a faithful servant and have done well. You shall be rewarded with the dark mark when you have fulfilled my will. Now go and kill the warlock who has betrayed me. Take the life of the wizard whom I have trusted above all others and who shamefully revealed our secrets to save his own miserable hide, the wizard who turned traitor to his own noble bloodline."

A towering figure in black robes stretched up before her, and Eleanor felt how Woollett had quailed under its tremendous power and hatred. "Kill me Lucius Malfoy!"

She almost dropped the small pensieve, but then other memories crowded her from the silvery depths: Woollett deliberately stepping in the path of a disarming spell, sneaking down the dark hallways of the Manor, making his way to the dining room using the map he had been given, smearing the poison on the lip of Lucius' monogrammed goblet. It was all there: in every small, incriminating detail.

Marius Woollett was an aspiring Death Eater, planted among the aurors to do the Dark Lord's work, and he had almost succeeded. Eleanor snapped the lid on the stone bowl shut. She had to get word to Marigold and warn her. She had to get Woollett arrested.

Then another thought struck her that made her stomach turn to ice: Woollett had been standing right by the mural that now bore her family line with her ancestry. If he got word to his master about her grandfather, Voldemort would know that he might obtain the Mirror of Battle through her. Not only had she jeopardized her lover's life by trusting the auror, she had now also given the Dark Lord the means to obtain a weapon to destroy them all.

"I have been so stupid!" she gasped, hitting her hand that held the pensieve against her thigh in frustration.

Only if she proved faster than Woollett could she hope to undo some of the damage she had wrought. Her mind made up she shrank the pensieve and slipped it into a pocket in her robes. A few quick spells disabled the wards on the fireplace and grabbing a fistful of floo-powder she called: "64 Blackbird Lane in Newcastle!" Green flames enveloped her as her spell whisked her away.


	9. Coming Home

**Coming Home**

_"Home is a name, a word, it is a strong one; stronger than magician ever spoke, or spirit ever answered to, in the strongest conjuration." (Charles Dickens)_

Eleanor sat cross-legged on the broad four-poster bed that stood in the center of Lucius' bedroom at Malfoy Manor. Not for the first time that night she raked her hands through her tousled hair looking absentmindedly at some coppery strands that remained stuck between her fingers. At this rate she'd probably be bald in the morning.

She was still too wound-up to even think of sleep, even though Nibbs now approached with yet another glass of hot, honeyed milk and a draught of Cossett's Calming Catnip potion. She motioned for the elf to put the tray on her nightstand and then dismissed him. Just because she was a nervous wreck didn't have to result in a sleepless night for the servants, too.

As the house elf bowed and left the room she smoothed down her dressing gown, reached for the milk and yet again recalled the events of the evening. Everything could be summed up on one small, neat little sentence: she had blown it.

When she had apparated in Newcastle the aurors were busy mopping up the aftermath of the raid. Three rather disheveled Death Eaters were being processed for transport to Azkaban prison, mediwizards took care of a few bruised and battered aurors and two disgruntled-looking Ministry officials were occupied with rounding up a confused and panicked family of muggles for obliviation.

Eleanor made her way through the aurors and had no problem spotting Marigold, who was talking to what appeared to be the Unspeakable in charge of the operation. The older wizard saw her approach and broke off his conversation.

"What do you think you are doing here?" he challenged her. "You are not an auror, and this is a crime scene!"

She simply ignored him. "Marigold, where's Woollett?" she asked.

"Excuse me?!" The Unspeakable did not like being disregarded, but Auror Brannock put a placating hand on his arm.

"Just a minute, sir. He's gone. Why?" she said. "You didn't come all the way up here just to give him back his cloak, did you?"

Eleanor held out the little pensieve to her with a bitter laugh. "Here, I found this in the pocket of his robes. Look for yourself."

Curious now, both Ministry employees bent over the silvery shimmer that emanated from the small stone bowl and after a few seconds Marigold drew back with an exclamation of dismay.

"Triple goddess! He did it! He put the poison on the goblet. You were right all along when you tried _legilimency_ on him. He really couldn't remember, because he had extracted his memories before the session. No wonder he was frantic about his cloak!"

Eleanor shook her head impatiently. "Never mind that now. Where is he? Where did he go?"

Marigold looked crestfallen. "I don't know, he didn't say. He stayed during the fight and then he said he had an urgent errant. I didn't care, because we had everything well under control by then. Thought we could do without him. Plus I was sick about him whining about that damn cloak of his. I let him get away. And he's a Death Eater and an attempted murderer. Hecate, I could kick myself!"

The Unspeakable snapped the pensieve shut and looked at the two witches. "Right, we'll put out a D-59 for him. General alert for all aurors and public information with a caution for citizens not to approach as the suspect is armed and dangerous," he explained for Eleanor's benefit.

He handed the pensieve to Marigold. "Secure the evidence, auror. I'll release the alert. Don't worry," he addressed the red-haired witch. "We'll have him apprehended in no time. You will be quite safe from him. We know our job."

He patted her on the shoulder and walked away, calling two aurors to him.

Eleanor threw her hands up in frustration. "Oh, Merlin's toenails, he hasn't got a clue what's at stake here," she hissed.

Now Marigold regarded her with a lift of her eyebrow. "Well, he's right, you know," she explained. "Woollett won't be able to get near Mr. Malfoy again. We'll be watching for him everywhere, including St. Mugo's. It's all right. You're both safe. I am just so sorry I dragged him along to the Manor. I gave him the chance to poison that goblet and put Mr. Malfoy in the hospital."

Eleanor grabbed her former student by her robes. "Listen. That's not all," she said. "I need to tell you something in confidence. This has to remain between you and me, Marigold."

The young auror looked uncomfortable by now. "Look," she said. "If it's about Mr. Malfoy, I can't promise. I can't hide incriminating information."

Eleanor sighed. It seemed everyone had a chip on their shoulder regarding her lover these days. Then again the dislike between the auror and the wizard was rather mutual.

"It's not about Lucius. It's about my grandfather, my mother's father to be precise. I know you talked to Woollett in front of that mural last night, and the first time he was round for the workshop he made that snotty comment about Lucius' bloodline being so remarkable and him being such a disgrace. Of course now I know he meant a disgrace to his master. Did he ever say anything to you about my family?"

Marigold stared at her. "Your family? What's that got to do with anything?"

Eleanor shook her. "Never mind. Please just tell me. I need to know!"

"Well, he just said something like: 'Look at that: Hochfels, Sartorius, Pomeranz und Wermuth. This woman is related to everyone!' But it wasn't anything important or particular, nothing specific. Are you all right?!"

The former Durmstrang professor had blanched at the last name on the list. Woollett had seen it, he knew, and now Voldemort would know. "I really think I need to sit down," she said faintly.

She staggered over to an old, battered-looking sofa that seemed to have been at the center of some serious cursing during the recent fight and buried her face in her hands. "We're history," she mumbled. "How could I have been such an idiot? I've led him right to it."

Marigold sat down next to her and laid her hand on her back. "What's wrong? I don't understand."

Eleanor faced her. For a moment she felt desperate and weak enough to completely confide in her student, but her long acquaintance with a dark wizard and her knowledge about her own past had made her secretive.

"Through my family I have potential access to an object that would make Voldemort extremely powerful should he possess it. He knows this object exists – in fact he has known that for some time. But he always thought he could not obtain it. Now he will realize that I could provide him with it. And Woollett is probably telling him this right now as we speak. The only way I could have messed up even more would have been to owl the Dark Lord myself."

Marigold looked worried now. "What object?" she asked.

"Sorry, but I can't tell you that. As you just warned me, you can't hide incriminating information, and I don't want to get you into trouble. My only hope was to waylay Woollett, before he could get to his master, but I guess it's already too late. Even if you do find him now, the damage is done."

She got up wearily. "Look, I'll floo back home. There's nothing I can do now. I don't want to keep you from doing your job."

Marigold had offered to accompany her, feeling obviously guilty for introducing the traitorous auror, but Eleanor had only wanted to be left alone. She had returned to Malfoy Manor, carefully re-warded the place and then paced the Silver Hall for a few hours.

She should have put an invisibility spell on the mural, or at least have the elves hang a tapestry over it. She should have accepted none of her students at face value. She should never have Woollett leave the dueling room unchaperoned. She should never have offered to do the workshop for the aurors in the first place, as Lucius had suggested. She shouldn't have trusted Snape's message. She should have protected her research better from Voldemort's _legilimency_.

It was all her fault. Voldemort might take over the entire wizarding world, slaughter muggles and mudbloods, torture Lucius to death, kill Draco, and that would all be her fault, too.

'Defense against the Dark Arts,' she thought bitterly. 'I'm barely qualified to teach muggle studies.'

She had finally dragged herself to bed around midnight, but her mind just wouldn't shut up. Self-obliviation would be such a blessing, but was of course quite impossible. She raked her hands through her hair again and with a sigh finally slipped off her dressing gown and crept under the comforter of the bed. Her fingers trembled as she reached for the glass of milk and the calming draught. She had to try and get some sleep somehow. No one would get any use out of her if she was a bleary-eyed wreck tomorrow.

* * *

In the warm, thick darkness a hand gently slid under the soft, rich satin sheets until it encountered bare skin. Fingers trailed over the ridge of bumps of a spine, followed the bow of a rib, tapped briefly against an elbow and curved themselves lazily around the gently swelling mound of a breast. 

Eleanor stirred, still trapped in sleep and instinctively scooted backwards into the direction where the hand had come from until her back moved up against the flat, muscular planes of a chest. She made a soft contented sound somewhere between a growl and a purr and snuggled up, molding her derriere into the warm and inviting curve of the thighs and abdomen of her nightly visitor.

The velvety skin of a half-erect cock caressed the sensitive flesh of her ass-crease and she repeated her sounds of contentment that were echoed by the soft groan of a male voice now.

His thumb stroked over the soft, relaxed tip of her nipple as the muscles of his arm tensed and he pulled her even closer. He could smell the faint frankincense scent of her hair now and felt her slide against him. Her voice sounded slurred and sleepy as she finally spoke his name. "L-Lucius – hmmmm…"

He breathed her in and reveled in the instinctive way she reacted to him, when suddenly the sharp point of an elbow rammed into his solar plexus, and someone bellowed "Lumos!" at the top of their lungs.

A moment later he found himself desperately gasping for breath in a blinding blaze of light, doubled up in agony and watching the sleepy, pliant woman of two seconds before on her knees on the mattress pointing her wand at him, ready to curse him to kingdom come.

"Eleanor," he wheezed and lifted an arm. The wand slipped out of her grasp and she immediately scooted back to him.

"Oh, no, Lucius! It's really you! I'm, oh, I'm so sorry!"

He coughed, still struggling for breath as she now hugged him fiercely and smothered his face in kisses. "Are you all right? I thought I was dreaming again, like the last time I'd thought you'd come home! What are you doing here? How can you give me such a scare? Oh, I'm so glad you're really back."

He put his fingers over her mouth. "Ssshh," he said. "One thing at a time. At this rate you're putting me right back in the hospital. First, can we have the lights off?"

Her green eyes were huge as she stared at him over the rim of his hand and nodded. Cautiously he freed her mouth.

"_Lumos finite_," she said, plunging the entire room into total darkness. Lucius still saw stars and afterimages of her shocked and belligerent naked body. With an evil grin he'd noticed that with the sudden exposure to the cooler night air her nipples had stiffened. Perhaps the rather rude awakening hadn't been a total loss after all.

"Good," he said as he reached for her. "Next, could you promise me not to elbow or otherwise hit me again?" He heard a brief snigger in the dark.

"If I find out you are really Voldemort on polyjuice, I'll have my way with you as long as you look like Lucius and then kill you," she said.

He sighed. That didn't even merit an answer. His hands now touched her again and he felt the soft skin of her shoulders and slender ridges of her collar-bones under his fingers. He moved closer and stroked gently over her neck until he felt her shiver.

"Now finally, could we decide to leave the talking for the moment and do this over from the beginning?"

He felt her move towards him on her knees until their bodies touched. "No talking?" she whispered, her lips brushing his ear. "Then this is the last I'll have to say. Let me…" Her teeth raked lightly over his earlobe. "…kiss it…" She nipped at his Adam's apple. "…all…" A quick flick of her tongue wet his left nipple. "…better."

He sank back into the pillows with a groan. She was definitely awake now as she climbed all over him, her hands, lips and tips of her breasts caressing him everywhere. He felt her lips on his mouth, nails raking lightly over his chest and down his flanks. A moment later he breathed through strands of her soft, fragrant hair as her tongue laved his neck leaving cooling trails of moisture on his skin and her hands kneaded the muscles of his shoulders and arms.

Despite their seeming randomness that kept him guessing in the dark, her caresses seemed to follow some secret game-plan, and he felt her move slowly, but inexorably down his body.

With a growl of anticipation he lifted his hands to hurry her along, but felt her shake her head against him. "Sssssh," she said and gently pushed his arms back to his sides, biting him playfully on the inside of his lightly parted thighs. "Careful with your teeth around there," he cautioned her, but only got another, sharper nip as a reply.

He should have known that she normally followed his orders to the letter, particularly when it suited her whim, and he had asked her not to talk after all.

A few seconds later he had to admit that she was putting her mouth to a much more delicious and fitting use, as her lips closed around the swollen tip of his cock and her tongue licked at the salty beads of pleasure her caresses had already teased from him. He groaned her name as she now used her hands to lift him and took him in so deep he actually felt the muscles of her throat move against him. The sensation was exquisite, and had left him both surprised and breathless when she had done it to him for the first time.

In his experience so far he had found that if he'd ever tried to force the matter with anyone he had usually got to hear gagging noises and angry rebukes from partners who chose to complain and rather sullen looks from those who very wisely chose not to.

He had interviewed Eleanor on the topic and had got an enigmatic smile from her. Finally she had revealed her secret: "It's just a simple charm, Lucius. 'One-Hundred and Thirteen Wayes to Bewitche a Wizard and Secure his Affections There-After,' by Smeralda Snapwort, chapter seven. Read it for yourself," she had said and continued with whatever she had been doing to him. It had felt so good, he had never got round to finding the book. In any case, Mrs. Snapwort obviously deserved an Order of Merlin, first class.

A few moments later Lucius did not concern himself any more with either obscure book-lore or the merits of Mrs. Snapwort's charms, but was fully occupied with enjoying the pleasures Eleanor's skilful mouth provided for him. He lifted his hands again and laced his fingers through her hair, but did not attempt to direct her movements. This time she did not pause or object.

Eleanor felt him stir restlessly beneath her and grow ever more vocal as she intensified her caresses. She knew from experience that he would not last much longer. The corners of her lips curled in an evil smile as she closed her free hand around his balls, massaging and lightly squeezing him. She was rewarded with an explosive gasp as he arched up at her touch. Fractions of a second later a hot, salty flood filled her mouth.

She swallowed and kept teasing the taut sinew that lay against her tongue with her lips on every shudder that shook him until at last his hands fisted in her hair in an agony of pleasure and he helplessly pleaded with her to stop.

She finally relented and gently released his cock against the sweat-slicked skin of his stomach, feeling his pulse race under her fingertips and stretched out beside him. She brought her lips back to his ear and whispered. "Better?"

The wizard moaned softly and an enervated hand moved to stroke her face. "I don't know," he said, sounding thoroughly exhausted, but the next minute the old Malfoy spirit reasserted itself. "Maybe we have to repeat this, just to be sure."

She chuckled, accepting the challenge. "Just wake me when you have recovered," she said.

With an effort he turned and faced her, pulling her to him. "I will take great care not to wake you ever again," he promised her. "You need a license from the Ministry of Magic for those elbows of yours." He felt her rub herself against him and winced as she touched his still sensitive cock.

"Well," she taunted him. "Perhaps then you will need to think of ways to keep me awake."

He kissed her, tasting a faint savor of himself on her lips. "I have had a most frustrating week thinking about little else. I might just about manage."

Eleanor sighed and when her fingers felt her way across his body in the dark to caress him her touch seemed to possess an almost poignant tenderness. He could hear no teasing in her voice when she next spoke. "Lucius, my love – welcome home."


	10. Death of a Death Eater

**Death of a Death Eater**

_"Pity is Treason" (Maximilien Robespierre)_

When pale grey dawn light filtered through the heavy draperies of the bedroom a little while later, Eleanor found herself still awake. Lucius had kept his promise. He had reclaimed his former position spooned around her.

It had not taken him very long to recover from her attentions, and now his cock rested inside her, sheathed among the slick folds of her center. His hands curved around her and explored her, rubbing and kneading the sensitive flesh of her breasts, painting spirals on her stomach and raking down her exposed flank.

She wriggled in his arms, wanting to deepen the penetration, craving a firmer touch from him, but his lazy, playful mood would not be swayed. He eluded her with a soft, dark laugh.

"Why so impatient, my dear? I have no intention to even leave our bedchamber today."

She groaned in frustration. Her whole body was tingling with anticipation now. But as an answer, his right hand merely snaked down her belly and his fingers began a light teasing of her swollen clit. Again she thrust her hips back, again he evaded her.

"I would have thought you'd had enough lying in bed," she challenged him, trying not to moan as he intensified his touch. "How – ummm – how did you get out anyway?"

His voice sounded right by her ear now. "I discharged myself. Had another grouchy nurse wake me at five in the morning and decided I finally had enough of this. They grumbled and made me sign a few waivers. But I was done soon enough and apparated here."

She bent her head backwards to see him and felt his lips on her neck and chin before her kissed her. "So you are cured?" she asked, when he released her.

His hips moved in a few lazy strokes. "Far as they can tell," he said. "What do you think?"

Eleanor moaned, arching her spine inwards to allow him better access. "Oh – perhaps, but I think I require further proof…"

She felt his teeth on her shoulder. "Proof, eh?"

He shifted and she got the distinct impression that he was finally prepared to give a certain matter his full attention. The long muscles of his legs tensed and one hand ranged back to her hip to hold her. She smiled into the pillows, knowing he couldn't see her face. Lucius was just unable to resist a challenge.

She reached behind her running her fingers over the skin of his thigh, feeling the short, wiry hairs on his legs tickle her palm as he moved.

Soon they had established a rhythm that had them both panting for breath, when suddenly the bedroom doors opened. "M-m-master, mistress!" piped the shrill, nervous voice of a house elf.

Lucius stopped abruptly and she felt him turn his torso backwards. "Nibbs! I will personally boil you in a small cauldron for this! You know you are not to disturb us! Now get out!!!" Obviously he was not amused.

Eleanor held the bed-sheets to her chest and craned her neck. She heard the elf scrabble around nervously. "Please, Nibbs knows. Nibbs already bashed his head against the hallway wall seven times before he came in. But Master needs to see. It is most horrible."

Lucius' hand lifted from her body now and she could see him point at someone on the floor out of her line of sight. "How can anyone with ears like that not hear me? Again, get out! Or do you want me to remove them? We will be ready shortly."

She heard a panicked whine, some quick footsteps and the snap of the door. Lucius shifted again. "Bloody vermin," he growled behind her.

"Shouldn't we…?" she began, but found that her lover's anger had rather added fuel to the flames, and a few seconds later he had almost made her forget the house elf entirely as she pushed her hands against the headboard for leverage against his aggressive thrusts.

She gasped under the assault of his body and barely needed the persuasion of his skilful fingers to find her release mere minutes after. As she cried out she felt his movements grow ragged. She heard a deep vibrating groan behind her, and then he buried his face in her hair as he came.

For a moment they lay still, catching their breath, but Lucius had not forgotten the interruption. He withdrew soon after and she felt the mattress dip as he brushed a kiss on her shoulder and sat up.

"And now I shall deal with this imbecile oaf of a house elf," he muttered angrily.

She turned around and laid a placating hand on his arm. "Lucius, he already knows it was wrong to come in. I'm sure he had a valid reason to go against your orders. Remember what you promised me when I moved it, nothing excessive."

He shook his head at her. "You and the house-elves… We'll have complete anarchy here one of these days. Anyway, I wasn't really going to anything drastic. They're too bloody expensive to damage permanently."

* * *

A few minutes later Lucius and Eleanor had dressed and followed Nibbs down the broad stairway and through the entrance hall of Malfoy Manor. The house-elf jabbered to himself nervously and seemed barely able to walk in a straight line. 

Eleanor thought he might still be distraught by the lightness of his punishment that Lucius had set for him after he had hit him over the head with his cane – to shut his ears in the oven door. Nibbs had broken down in tears and had thanked his master profusely. The wizard had merely kicked him and told him to stop sniveling.

The elf led them out of the house now and Eleanor paused to ask him where they were going.

"Nibbs needs master and mistress to see what's on the entrance gate," he said.

"Oh, Merlin," growled Lucius. "Can't you just tell us?"

"Please, master, Nibbs cannot say. It is too terrible, much too terrible."

Lucius sighed and the three of them walked down the gravel path in the dim morning light.

Malfoy Manor had always been carefully warded against detection by muggles, who normally just wandered aimlessly around the large park and forest that surrounded the house and gardens without ever spotting a building, but these days more powerful spells had been added to insure protection against the Death Eaters. Most of those secondary defenses encompassed the immediate building and lay inside a tall, ornate wrought iron fence that surrounded the grounds of the mansion.

As they approached now, Eleanor thought she could make out a black shape against the ironwork of interlacing serpents that formed the gate. Something seemed to move and she cautiously drew her wand. A soft scraping noise to her side told her that Lucius was also prepared.

"_Protego_," she said softly, but Nibbs looked back at her.

"Mistress does not need to be afraid," he said. "It is quite dead."

"Dead?" she exclaimed, and a moment later they saw: someone had hung a human body swathed in a black hooded cloak on the gate. The cloth moved gently in the morning breeze. Blood had dripped down from the lifeless form and made a dark stain on the light gravel. From the inside of the fence it was impossible to say who the victim was.

Eleanor cast a quick look at Lucius, who had turned pale. "It can't be Draco," he said as if to reassure himself. "That's a Death Eater cloak."

He didn't even bother to command the house-elf, but opened the heavy, creaking gate himself. Eleanor followed him and looked up at the wide-eyed face that stared down at them, the features arranged in a permanent rigor mortis of agony.

"By Azrael," exclaimed Lucius. "That's Auror Woollett, and they've really done a number on him." He sounded actually slightly impressed.

Eleanor in turn felt decidedly sick at the sight. The man wore nothing but the Death Eater robe which covered his hair but was unlaced at the front, and she could clearly see that he had been eviscerated. The body seemed to be suspended by spell-work. "Hecate," she gasped. "This is evil! Who would do such a thing?"

"Oh, that's normally old Merton's specialty," said Lucius factually. She stared at him. "The question is," he continued, "Why kill an auror and leave him on our doorstep?"

Eleanor sighed. It was high time Lucius knew what she had discovered a few hours earlier.

"He's your poisoner," she explained. "It wasn't Severus after all. Woollett is a follower of Voldemort. He used the guise of an auror and the unsuspecting Marigold to get into the house. Last Thursday he got himself zapped by a spell on purpose. When I sent him to the bathroom to fix up a cut he got he went to the dining-room and put the poison on your goblet. Your former associates must have given him a map of the manor. I only found out last night."

Lucius lifted an eyebrow. "Well, at least he got a decent dose of what he deserved, then. I couldn't have thought of a better send-off for him myself. Still, even though the attempt to kill me failed, that's a bit of a harsh punishment, even for the Dark Lord."

"Unfortunately that's not all," said the witch, and filled her lover in on the rest of the story, her _legilimency_ attempt on Woollett, the Death Eater raid, and her find of the pensieve in the auror's cloak.

"I think Voldemort punished him for getting himself discovered by stupidly leaving his cloak behind. With his cover blown he must have become useless to him. But the worst is that Woollett saw the mural with our family tree in the Silver Hall. He took notice, because Marigold heard him comment on Desiderius Wermuth, which means Voldemort knows there is another descendent of the mirror maker who can get the Mirror of Battle for him," she confessed.

Lucius now looked grim as he regarded her. "I am sorry," she murmured and hung her head. "Not only did I almost get you killed, I might as well have gone blabbing to the Dark Lord myself."

Instead of an answer Lucius drew her to him and held her. "You couldn't have known," he said simply. "It changes nothing. Just like me you have become a target now. We have to be as vigilant as before. At least you discovered Woollett's betrayal, and he got what he deserved."

Eleanor looked back up at the dead auror. "Deserved," she murmured. Whatever had drawn the young man to the cause of the Death Eaters; whatever he had done, she felt she pitied him. His last hours in this life must have been horrible.

The wind moved the cloak again and she spotted a glimmer of white. "There," she said. "He has something pinned to his robes."

Lucius stepped up and removed a bloodied piece of parchment from the black cloth. "'So will all end who fail me'," he read. He crumpled up the paper in his fist, hissing in anger. "We'll see about that," he said.

Eleanor felt his arm encircle her. "Come on. Let's go back to the house. We can owl the Ministry and have the aurors clean up the mess."

* * *

A little while later the wizard and witch sat at a round table facing two Ministry officials in a light and airy morning room overlooking the grounds at the front of the Manor. The sun had risen and bathed the chamber in golden light. On the polished wood between them lay the parchment note that Lucius had removed from the body of the executed auror. 

Eleanor's eyes strayed from her company and out of the tall gothic windows to a small cluster of green-robed people on the lawn by the gate. Aurors removed Mr. Woollett's torn body from the iron work of the fence and searched the surrounding area for any clues.

"Again Mr. Malfoy, Miss Sartorius, we apologize for the damage done to you by one of our own. We will have to work on our security checks and background investigation process. I can promise you that this event will not repeat itself," said one of the officials. Both men looked rather uncomfortable.

"You are right about that," she now heard Lucius answer. His voice sounded decisive and cold. "We will not give any of your people a chance to abuse our trust again. The defense workshops at Malfoy Manor will stop – you will have to negotiate with Miss Sartorius if she is gracious enough to train with your people somewhere else, under the strictest security of course, which I will personally inspect to assure myself that she will be quite safe.

But I believe you are in our debt nonetheless, and I demand compensation for the suffering and anguish Mr. Woollett has caused us."

The older of the two wizards now raised an eyebrow. "Compensation? What kind of compensation?" he asked. "We can't be expected to make any financial – "

"Money won't buy me off," interrupted Lucius. "As you can see for yourself, I have hardly the need for a share of your paltry tax revenues. No, I want full protection for an event at Malfoy Manor on Halloween. I want every available auror, background checked and deployed here to safeguard my family and my guests."

Now everyone in the room including Eleanor stared at the blond wizard.

"What event?" asked the official.

"The invitations will go out on Monday," said Lucius. "In the meantime, I suggest you get this cleared with your superiors. If you have any problems I recommend you talk to my family advocatus, Mr. Tethering. I'm sure he'll be happy to explain the finer points of this arrangement to you."

The Ministry wizard seemed cowed by the older Malfoy's commanding manner, but not quite ready to give up. "If this is a private event, we cannot use public resources…" he started.

The Lord of Malfoy Manor got up and leant forward across the table. His voice had gone very quiet.

"We will have about two-hundred guests here, including most of the members of the Ministry of Magic. That's about as official as it gets. I have just spent a week at death's door because Miss Sartorius was kind enough to use our _private_ resources to help your people, and through your criminal negligence you put a traitor in our midst. So do not presume to talk to me about separating private and public. Make this happen."

Eleanor watched and bit her lip. Lucius' ability to gain leverage and use any situation to his advantage had not diminished. If the Department of Magical Law Enforcement gave in to his demands they would have the best possible security for their handfasting. Next to Hogwarts Malfoy Manor would be the safest place in the wizarding world – at least for one day.


	11. Preparations

**Preparations **

_"In omnibus negotiis prius quam aggrediare, adhibenda est praeparatio diligens - In all matters, before beginning, a diligent preparation should be made. (Marcus Tullius Cicero. De officiis I, 21.)_

Eleanor shivered in the cool October air and unsheathed her wand for a warming spell. She stood almost naked in the center of a tall tent that could hold about ten people, and she was wearing nothing but a thin, floor-long sleeveless silk shift, stockings and a loosely-laced corset. At least the floor was thickly covered with plush carpets to keep her feet warm

"Alors, mademoiselle, vous etes prêt?" asked a tall, slender witch in elegantly cut mauve wool robes.

Eleanor sighed and cast a slightly nervous glance at her companion, a young auror, who sat on a chair with two house-elves pinning her hair in place. "Oui, madame," she answered.

"S'il vous plait, tenez la chaise la-bas," was the next command. She gripped the back-rest of one of the sturdy chairs that had been set out for guests to sit and a moment later she felt a knee pushed not too gently into the small of her back as the French witch began tightening the strings of her corset.

"Ow," she gasped. "I'll pass out before I even manage to skip the broom!"

The witch in the velvet robes gave the laces another rather vicious tug before tying them and straightening the stays. "Now, now, mademoiselle, a beautiful dress like this cries for a tiny waist. See, your 'usband will be able to encircle you almost with his 'ands now."

Eleanor tried to breathe flatly. "And that is a good thing?" she asked dubiously.

"Ah, juste une minute, 'ere are your robes now. Michelle!" The witch's assistant had slipped into the tent holding a huge pile of cloth which the two women now pulled, buttoned, fastened and tugged into place until they turned their client around and Eleanor was finally looking at herself in a tall standing mirror. She barely recognized herself.

The basic gown she was wearing was cut from pale grey rippling, whispering spider silk so supple and light it felt like woven air itself. The cloth encased her torso tightly leaving the tops of her shoulders bare and billowed into full, sumptuous sleeves. The skirts fell like cascading water over her hips, flared out and trailed behind her with a soft luxurious swish as she walked. She could have worn the under-dress by itself and it would have been the envy of everyone.

But the robe-makers had layered a second gown on top of it. It was an intricate lacework made of cloth-strips about two inches in breadth and delicately hemmed in black silk. The strips were cut from shimmering dark green velvet and arranged in a lose Celtic knotwork pattern weaving over and under each other, that encased the sleeves and bodice of the dress and fell over the skirt. She was reminded of serpents slithering all over her in a silent, graceful dance.

"It's beautiful," she breathed. "You have outdone yourselves, très beau!"

"Hm," commented Marigold with an appraising shake of her head. "It's gorgeous all right, but it's so – Malfoy, if you know what I mean."

Eleanor smiled. "That was the idea."

Just then the tent-flap moved letting in some chilly autumn air and the tall slender figure of a witch in elegant blue robes. Eleanor took one look at the high-backed nose, curved mouth and icy-grey eyes to know that despite the woman's dark brown hair she had a Malfoy before her. She stepped up to the woman, who regarded her gravely.

"Cornelia De Lacy-Malfoy," the witch said. "You must be Lucius' fiancé." Despite her generally reserved demeanor she shook Eleanor's hand with some warmth.

Eleanor smiled at her. "Yes, Eleanor Sartorius. I am glad and honored that you and your husband will be attending the handfasting and that you consented to take the positions of the Speakers of the North and South for the ceremony, especially since Lucius' other sister was unable to make it."

The newcomer gave her a wry look. "Yes, yellow silk," she said. "With my complexion that is quite a sacrifice, though my husband Armand will of course look stunning in red velvet. I am very pleased to meet you. It seems my brother's taste is still proving impeccable, as always."

Eleanor inclined her head at the compliment and introduced Marigold as her Maid of Honor and the other attendants in the bridal tent; and then the French robe-makers concentrated on Cornelia to fit her with a stunning gown of deep golden silk, the traditional color for the representative of the Earth element at a handfasting.

Having finished with the auror the house elves changed over to work on Eleanor's coiffure while other attendants helped Marigold with her dress. In a mere two hours the Summoner would call forth the bride, and they still had a lot of work to do.

* * *

"Whose idea was this again? Remind me!" growled Lucius Malfoy yanking on a silvery silk rope that had snarled around some tree roots. He was accompanied by Gaius Belisarius and Marcellus Tethering, the Malfoy family lawyers. 

All three men busied themselves around a clearing in the old park behind Malfoy Manor setting out the traditional magical circle for the handfasting ceremony. The clearing had served the family for this purpose since the ancient oaks of the park had first been planted, and despite the tedium of having to prepare the grounds himself as the groom, Lucius was not about to deviate from this tradition.

He had finally freed the rope and Belisarius, who served as his Guardian, or what muggles would have probably call the Best Man, helped him to lay it out to mark off the sacred grounds for the guests and attendants.

"Look at it this way, Lucius," said the pale, ageless senior partner of Belisarius & Tethering in Knockturn Alley. "It's not raining, the ground is dry, it's not even very cold, and if that doesn't please you, remember that in a few hours it will be all over and you'll enjoy the embraces of your wife."

Lucius dropped the last segment of the rope in place and pulled a silk handkerchief from the pocket of his elegant black robes to wipe off his hands. He already wore the grey spider silk shirt and shimmering green velvet waistcoat that matched his future wife's dress. He had just opened his mouth for a reply when several people appeared in the clearing.

First a house-elf prostrated himself. "Please master, the caterers say the decorators have it all wrong with the table arrangements, they are in the Silver Hall now quarrelling. A few have pulled their wands already. Nibbs is very afraid."

Lucius sighed. "This is a bloody nightmare. I should have remembered from last time. Marcellus, can you go back with the elf and sort it out?"

The lawyer nodded. In contrast to his colleague, who had dressed almost more elegantly than the groom, he wore his usual drab grey, the only concession to the importance of the event being the velvet lining of his outer cloak.

Next a man in flamboyant red robes approached. On most people they would have looked slightly gaudy, but Lucius' brother-in-law's pale skin, dark eyes and shoulder-long raven black hair made the ensemble look rather dramatic. He was followed by a group of several witches and wizards and led them over to the elder Malfoy.

"Armand," said Lucius. "I trust you were furnished with everything you needed to get changed at the house?"

The other man nodded. "Yes, the robe-makers and house-elves were most accommodating. I assume the Speaker of the South has the usual duties?" His black brows arched.

Lucius pointed to a low table swathed in red cloth within the circle. "Of course, we have no deviation from tradition. Your station is over here. I'll send the Official over as soon as she arrives. Cornelia is still with the bride."

Armand De Lacy looked around the clearing. "Well, then I'll leave these folks with you. They are from Durmstrang." He bowed sharply. "Headmistress, professors…"

Inga Magnusdottir, the headmistress of Durmstrang Institute now shook Lucius' hand with a most disarming smile. "Lucius – I may call you Lucius after our last encounter at the school, yes? We are so pleased that you invited us. And of course Fritz and Isadora are thrilled that Eleanor asked them to officiate as Speakers of the West and East. And I am to be the Gatekeeper! Such an honor."

Lucius smirked at the witch. He vividly recalled her bout of outrageous flirting with him the last time he had run into her at school during one of his visits. She was very capable at transfiguration and had taken at least ten years off her age during their conversation.

She now sidled up to him and whispered in to his ear. "Of course I am most cross with you regarding the wedding."

Lucius shook his head: the woman had nerves. He wondered if she would dare to be so blatant if Eleanor was actually around. The witch and the wizard the headmistress had mentioned stood to the side looking slightly embarrassed.

"Why is that," asked the older Malfoy. "Shouldn't you be happy for your former colleague?"

"Oh, but here is the problem: her marriage to you robbed me of a very capable head of house and Defense teacher. And now that you have taken her away from us, of course you have no reason to visit, and we are denied your company as well. Most vexatious."

"Well, I apologize, Madam Magnusdottir," said Lucius rather formally. "I hope the feast will compensate you somewhat."

"Only if I do get to dance with the groom," crooned the witch, but fortunately Lucius was saved from her further attentions by a discrete cough from behind. The Official from the Ministry of Magic had arrived.

Lucius quickly pointed Isadora Akers, the astronomy teacher, further into the woods towards the bridal tent, so she could get changed and sent Fritz Hauer, the quidditch coach, back to the Manor with a house elf to do the same. He then excused himself, leaving the headmistress to briefly scan the clearing for other victims and single-mindedly make her way over to Armand.

He grinned now. His sister Cornelia took a very dim view of witches putting the moves on her rather good-looking husband. This should prove amusing.

A moment later he found himself in conversation with the Ministry witch, who would be officiating at the handfasting, going over the arrangements. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Belisarius help a few servants set out the stations for the Speakers of the four elements. A house-elf was busy strewing the traditional rosemary sprigs and orange blossoms on the ground.

The Official finally took her tools and walked over to a large oak stump in the middle of the circle that was cut off at about waist-height and carefully leveled and smoothed. She opened a bundle of cloth and began her own preparations.

Lucius turned, stretched and surveyed the proceedings. Aside from a few annoying glitches everything seemed to be progressing relatively smoothly. It was time for him to return to the Manor and to begin greeting his guests. He shouted over to Belisarius to keep a watch on things on the clearing and strode back into the park.

As he left the trees behind and reached the groomed lawn on the west side of the Manor he saw three people walk towards him: a small dwarf of a man dressed in brown and green, a boy with shoulder-long blond hair the exact shade of his own and a wizard wearing plain, smartly cut, but unadorned black robes.

Lucius' lips compressed in anger as he regarded the third man. He hadn't thought that the Hogwarts potions master would dare to show his face at his home after the affair with the _exsanguinium_poison in September. The traitorous Death Eater had more guts than he had given him credit for.

This behavior mirrored either the ignorance of a clear conscience – which seemed to be still Eleanor's pet theory, who to his annoyance could not truly credit Snape with the attempt on his life; or it bore traces of an arrogance born from an unshakeable sense of supremacy and invincibility – which was what Lucius was inclined to believe, and it made him uneasy. To avoid suspicion Lucius had invited his son's teacher as head of house for Slytherin, together with the headmaster and the other heads of houses, but he had fully expected him to stay away.

The tall, dark-haired man arranged his features in a poor imitation of a smile and held out his hand. "Lucius," he said. "Good to see you. They told us you were at the clearing, getting the circle set up."

The blond wizard ignored the hand. "Severus," he said stiffly. "I see you brought Draco. How are things at school?"

The potions master raised an eyebrow at his fellow-Slytherin's snub and shrugged his shoulders. "Fine. As you probably expected, Professors Dumbledore, McGonagal and Sprout were 'busy', but Professor Flitwick and myself thought we should at least get Draco here safely. After all, a Malfoy party is hardly an occasion to be missed.

I noticed you have managed to requisition quite a few aurors for the event. Looks like your leverage with the Ministry has improved since the summer."

"Quite," said Lucius with a menacing undertone. "The Death Eaters will find it harder to worm their way into this place than they did a month ago."

"Quite," echoed Snape with the ghost of a smirk, and Lucius found himself about ready to hex the guy. The arrogance and nerve of the man was almost insufferable. 'Soon, very soon,' he quietly told himself. He turned towards his son.

"Well, Draco, you better get ready for your duties as the Summoner," he said neutrally. He had last seen the boy at the hospital and had been torn between embarrassment and surprise at the amount of affection and emotion his heir had shown at his bedside.

The younger Malfoy grinned at him, obviously pleased to see him. "Yes father," he said. "Actually I got the owl with your note, but I'm still not sure what exactly I'm supposed to do. Maybe you want to walk me through it."

Lucius gave a curt nod. "Let's go back to the house, Draco. The robe-makers should have your garments ready. I will instruct you in your duties. Severus, professor, there are refreshments laid out for early arrivals in the Silver Hall. Help yourselves."

He placed a hand on his son's shoulder, feeling relief at being able to separate the boy from his teacher and briefly compressed his lips. "Severus, I'm sure you know your way around the place..."


	12. The Handfasting

**The Handfasting**

_"I have great hopes that we shall love each other all our lives as much as if we had never married at all." (Lord Byron)_

It was early afternoon on a crisp and clear autumn day at Malfoy Manor. The large banquet room on the south side of the house was buzzing with conversations, the clink of crystal goblets and the rustle of expensive robes.

About two-hundred wizards and witches walked around the Silver Hall meeting and greeting each other and talking in small groups. Liveried servants and house elves meandered through the crowd with tablets laden with glasses of sparkling wine and platters of hors-d'oeuvres.

The large floor-level windows overlooking the garden had been thrown open and guests spilled out over the lawn, protected by warming spells, and admired the profusion of magically created fragrant flowers and plants that adorned the grounds. It might be fall all around, but that hardly foiled the magic, money and artistic taste of the Malfoys

Around the perimeter of the manor aurors robed in green stood watch, reminding those guests who paid attention, that the Malfoy residence remained a place under siege, despite the lavish festivities. Most attendees, however, disregarded the aurors and curiously tried to take in as much of the Manor and park as possible. An invitation from the Malfoys was always a rare honor, and now that Mr. Malfoy had been so much in the spotlight after his arrest, people's interest in the notorious wizard had only increased.

Younger guests snooped around in the hopes of finding perhaps a chance Dark Magical item. Readers of Witch Weekly speculated about the bride and her dress and the true nature of the relationship of the new couple, and Ministry employees nodded sagely as they discussed official matters with an air of self-importance that served to mask their level of envy at the Malfoys' displayed wealth.

Minister Fudge had just reached for a fourth crystal flute of champagne when suddenly the loud peal of a bell cut through the general bustle of the crowd.

A blond young man dressed in the solemn black robes of the Summoner walked through the hall ringing a gold bell in triple peals and called: "Hear ye! Hear ye- The handfasting is about to begin..."

Conversations stopped and people started to throng around the younger Malfoy who led the way through the ball room and down the central gravel path of the garden until the entire wedding party found themselves under the tall, ancient trees of Malfoy Park.

Without hesitation Draco guided the guests down a network of paths among the bare oaks until they came to the clearing that had been readied for the ceremony. They saw that several people had already arrived before them.

Four witches and wizards dressed in the colors of the four Elements already waited within the open space among the trees, while around the imposing stump of a felled oak stood the Lord of Malfoy Manor, a portly and elegantly dressed wizard by his side, and a Ministry witch from the Department of Records.

As the Summoner stood aside, a tall blond witch with the long staff of the Gatekeeper stepped out between the trees and greeted the guests. Inga Magnusdottir solemnly opened the consecrated circle that was marked by the silk rope and led everyone to their appointed places. It took a few minutes for the guests to sort themselves out, but when the crowd had calmed, the headmistress magically resealed the entrance, stepped up to the altar formed by the tree trunk and laid down her staff. She then assumed her place by the side of the official.

Draco, in the meantime, had remained outside the circle and now walked deeper into the park. While the guests waited expectantly the four Speakers took their positions at four low tables that were set out in the main directions of the compass.

Everyone craned their neck to get the first glimpse of the bride, and a few minutes later a stir went through the crowd as the Summoner's bell could be heard again.

* * *

Eleanor's eyes were fixed on the ground before her as she held up the skirts of her dress and carefully watched her path over tree-roots and through piles of dried rustling autumn leaves. She tried to keep up with the long strides of the Summoner who walked by her side. Behind her she heard the hurried footsteps of her Maid of Honor. 

Draco had just called to them from outside the tent, and a house elf had straightened one last sprig of love-in-a-mist in her hair. Now they wound their way to the clearing for the handfasting ceremony. Eleanor was both surprised and touched that Lucius' son had consented to play a role in the ritual, which to her seemed to indicate that he supported rather than opposed their union.

"Fudge is already tipsy," the younger Malfoy sniggered as he told her about the arrival of the guests at the Manor, and she shook her head, then placed a finger on her lips.

"Shsh, we are almost there."

"Nervous?" asked Draco, lifting an eyebrow at her.

She took a deep breath. "Yeah," she admitted. "I'm going to flub my lines, trip over my gown and probably end up flat on my ass when we have to jump the broom. On top of it all this dress is laced so tight, I'm going to faint any minute."

An appraising glance out of grey eyes grazed her. "Well, you look great," the Summoner told her with conviction.

She briefly laid her hand against his arm. "Thanks, Draco," she said and smiled gratefully. "Wish me luck!"

Just then the Gatekeeper approached them with raised staff and opened the circle for them. Draco nodded to her and guided the bride and the Maid of Honor towards the altar before bowing to his father and taking his place next to the gate.

Eleanor briefly locked eyes with Lucius as she stepped to his side. She saw the groom's grey eyes narrow as he regarded her. For a moment his face remained expressionless and aloof, then she saw the corners of his mouth curve in the smallest of proud and appreciative smiles. It was meant for no one else but her, and as she caught it and smiled back she knew that her appearance met with his full approval.

Just then Belisarius stepped forward and placed a small velvet pouch in front of the Official on the oak stump. She nodded and raised her arms.

"Bear witness now to those, who have come before you, to declare their will today in the presence of all. Let this handfasting commence!

Neither a wizard nor a witch is property to be bought or sold, given or taken. So we will hereby establish if the bride and groom are who they claim to be, if they are free to marry, and if they come of their own free will."

She turned towards Marigold. "Do you know the name of this woman?

The auror gave the traditional response identifying the bride. "She is Eleanor Julia Sartorius."

"Can you vouch for her being free to be handfasted to this man?" asked the Official, and Marigold assented.

The witch then repeated the identification for Lucius, this time addressing Belisarius.

Satisfied with the answers she now turned to the bride. "Eleanor Julia Sartorius have you come here of your own free will and accord, without coercion or false pretence?"

Eleanor cast a quick look at the man standing next to her, and for a moment she remembered seeing him for the first time as he kissed her hand outside the _Silver Teapot_ in Diagon Alley. She smiled. "I have," she said.

The face of the Official remained expressionless as she addressed the groom. "Lucius Octavian Malfoy, have you come here of your own free will and accord, without coercion or false pretence?"

Eleanor watched Lucius and saw his lips tighten for a moment. She wondered if he thought back on when he had replied to that question the last time, assenting to his arranged marriage to Narcissa in order to please his father.

"I have," he said, his voice sounding full and certain.

The witch stepped back with a curt nod. "Then you may proceed."

Belisarius moved in and opened the velvet pouch on the altar, taking out two rings and placing them on top of the fabric. He handed the smaller one to his client.

Lucius gave his mother's old wedding band an appraising glance. He had set it on Eleanor's hand once before, when he had asked her to marry him on a sun-drenched day in August in the gardens behind the Manor. This time the promise she had made him then would be fulfilled.

He faced the woman who stood by his side and heard the soft rustle of her gown as she moved. She looked lovelier than he could remember and he had to smile when he remembered her words to him as she had consented to his wedding plans. 'Let's knock their pointy wizard shoes off.' She had certainly done that. There could not be a single man out there in the circle watching, who would not wish, at least for a second, that he were him, Lucius Malfoy.

The blond wizard reached for the bride's hand and looked up to face the crowd. "No wizard may be handfasted but by his own will. So I declare here before all present that I will bind myself to this witch, my friend and partner, who stands before me."

He slipped the emerald-speckled gold filigree of the ring on Eleanor's hand and watched her look at it for a moment, meet his gaze and then reach for the remaining ring on top of the velvet. Unlike her, Lucius had not seen his wedding band yet. The old ring that had bound him to Narcissa he had discarded.

He found that she had chosen to have a replica of her own ring made for him, but without the stones. Instead a small serpent crept through the lacework of small leaves and branches that formed the circle.

He met her eyes and caught in the deep green of them an expression he had seen before. They had faced each other in her bedroom in London during his exile and she had finally looked at him and told him the truth. Just as then there was no challenge in her gaze, just a deep calm. He heard her voice again. 'I love you.'

For a moment Belisarius, the Official and the crowd of onlookers just faded away as he remembered, then her clear voice brought him back. "No witch may be handfasted but by her own will. So I declare here before all present that I will bind myself to this wizard, my friend and partner, who stands before me."

He held out his hand, and she slipped the ring on his finger, next to the Sartorius seal she had given him on the very same day six years ago. She seemed to remember herself, because as she looked into his eyes he saw her lips curve and silently mouth "happy birthday" at him.

The Official resumed her position. "And now we will proceed to the handfasting, the tying of the knot that will join the bride and groom together in marriage."

Lucius and Eleanor joined their left hands as the witch walked around the altar with a black cord and tied them together. "Behold!" she cried.

They raised their bound hands and the Ministry witch intoned the formal traditional declaration.

"Made to measure, wrought to bind, blessed be, these lives entwined!

By the powers vested in me by the Statute for the Registration of Handfastings of 1632 and the Department of Records at the Ministry of Magic I pronounce you husband and wife. I present to everyone here assembled, and to the spirits of this place, Mrs. Eleanor Malfoy-Sartorius and her husband, Mr. Lucius Malfoy."

Eleanor smiled as people began to clap and she felt Lucius right arm encircle her. The embrace proved a little awkward as they held their bound left hands between them, but that hardly deterred the man who was now officially her husband. "Like the waist. It suits you," he purred just before his lips captured hers.

She let herself sink into their kiss which was probably longer and more abandoned than tradition would have deemed seemly, but she did not mind until she finally heard the Official clear her throat. Reluctantly Lucius released her.

"I was afraid you might say that," she whispered to him when she had the use of her lips again and was rewarded with a slightly evil smirk.

The Official took charge of the ceremony again. "And now, as in all marriages, you have certain duties towards each other."

Still bound together Lucius and Eleanor approached a small table covered with a blue cloth that was set out in the east part of the circle. Fritz Hauer, dressed also in blue and speaking for the element of Air greeted them.

"Blessed be your marriage with these gifts from the Spirit of Air: clear understanding of each other, and of yourselves, joy in learning from each other and teaching your children together."

Lucius picked up a dagger that lay on the table. He faced his wife. "I call upon the Spirits of Air to witness my oath, that I shall protect you always."

Eleanor watched him as he replaced the weapon and led her to a similar table decked out in red to the south, where his brother-in-law waited for them. Lucius' oath held such poignancy for her, now that they were besieged on all sides, and to see the glint of menace in his eyes as he had brandished the dagger told her that he had not made his promise lightly. 'And I will protect you,' she thought fiercely.

Armand De Lacy held out a flaming brazier to them. "Blessed be your marriage with these gifts from the Spirit of Fire: honor and advancement as a family, success and strength, and the inspiration to find ways to love one another."

Lucius took the brazier from the red-clad wizard and again spoke to her. "I call upon the Spirits of Fire to witness my oath, that the hearth-fire of my house shall warm you and welcome you always in our home."

'It already has,' she wanted to tell him, but of course that would have definitely been a breach of tradition. So she hoped his eyes would tell him as he now handed the brazier back and gently turned her to make their way over to the west. It was time for her promises now.

At a green table Isadora Akers presented her with a silver chalice filled with water. The astronomy teacher placed her hand over her heart and seemed quite overwhelmed by her own words. "Blessed be your marriage with these gifts from the Spirit of Water: a clear understanding of each other's desire, resolve to stand by each other, whatever may come to pass, gentleness and patience."

Somehow Eleanor doubted that the Malfoys would be able to add gentleness and patience to their virtues, but she would at least give her family the benefit of the doubt. She took the chalice from the professor's hands and let Lucius drink.

**"**I call upon the Spirits of Water to witness my oath, that my love will comfort and refresh you. May you never thirst!"

He smiled at her and licked his lips as she handed the cup back. Somehow he also looked as if he was dying to speak out of turn, and she suspected that it would be a rather suggestive remark.

They finally made their way to the north and approached Cornelia who held up very well in her yellow silk, despite her own misgivings. She actually winked at her brother and Eleanor was again taken aback at seeing Lucius' familiar smirk on a female face as she presented her new sister-in-law with a flat gold dish that held a small piece of bread sprinkled with rock salt.

"Blessed be your marriage with these gifts from the Spirit of Earth: strength to do what you must do, when you must do it, and together as one, fertility and stability."

Eleanor picked up the bread with her unbound hand and gave it to Lucius to eat. "I call upon the Spirits of Earth to witness my oath, that my love will nourish and sustain you always. May you never hunger!"

As they completed the circuit and moved back to the altar in the center they found Belisarius and Marigold in their way. The Guardian and the Maid of Honor held an old beaten-up looking broom between them that was lavishly garlanded with orange blossoms.

The Official approached the new couple. "I will now unbind you as the fetters that will hold you henceforth will be the fetters of your hearts." She unwrapped the cord from their hands, cut it in two and presented them each with one half. Then she addressed the crowd. "The handfasted couple will now jump the broom in time-honored tradition."

As the Guardian and the Maid bent down to hold the broom above the ground Eleanor felt Lucius' had slip into hers. "Ready, wife?" he challenged her. Eleanor tried to take a deep breath despite her stays and wondered briefly how she would hold up while dancing later on. "Ready, husband," she replied.

As they jumped everyone erupted in shouts and clapping and one could barely hear the Summoner's bell again, as Draco shouted to the guests. "Come now and join us at the Manor for our feast!"

Inga Magnusdottir picked up her staff and opened the circle while Lucius and Eleanor returned one last time to the tree stump to sign two copies of the Ministry certificate of handfasting, witnessed by the Maiden and Guardian, and signed and sealed by the Official. The Ministry witch handed one copy to Lucius for the family archives and packed the other one into her cloth bundle for Ministry records.

Her business-like demeanor disappeared together with the official document. "Well, that went rather smoothly," she complimented everyone patting the altar. "Now, where might one get a decent glass of fire-whisky around here?"


	13. The Summoner

**The Summoner**

_"Oh, my friend, it's not what they take away from you that counts. It's what you do with what you have left."(William Cowper. The Retired Cat. I.95)_

Eleanor watched dreamily as the sky behind Malfoy Manor turned a deep translucent turquoise banded with flaming gold and purple above the horizon. The first stars appeared, and their twinkling, silvery light was rivaled by the thousands of tiny will-o'-the-wisps that were set into the trees of the garden and park. Well-fed guests milled around them, taking a breath of the refreshing evening air after the sumptuous dinner in the Silver Hall.

Inside one could hear the strains of a small orchestra playing traditional dance tunes. Lucius and Eleanor had opened the dance, but now the guests had taken over, and the red-haired witch was grateful to be outside in the relative cool and quiet.

Lucius, who stood next to her, his arm possessively laid around her waist, talked intently to three Ministry wizards that had joined them. "I am sorry, but I will not second that proposal," he said firmly. "You are asking me to jeopardize my own business venues in that area. No wizard in their right mind would consent to that – unless you were prepared to make up a net loss of about two-hundred thousand galleons every year to me."

The man Lucius had spoken to looked slightly uncomfortable now. "Well, we could give you the exclusive trading rights for central Europe, and throw the North African market into the bargain," he suggested and caught nothing but a haughty sneer from his opposite.

"Not good enough, my dear man, not good enough, I'm afraid. Do your math and come back with a proposal I can take seriously and I'll reconsider. You know, Snarewood, I always keep an open mind."

He turned to her now and she felt his hand tighten on her hip. "Come on, Eleanor, I don't think we have anything else to talk about." He turned to his guests with a curt bow. "Excuse us, please."

She shook her head as he led her away. "This place is run by Slytherins, isn't it?" she asked him. He leant over to her side and brushed a kiss on her temple.

"Funny you should say that. He is actually a Hufflepuff, which would account for his amazing stupidity and lack of accounting skills, my dear. But I am afraid I am boring you. You pick the next bunch of people to talk to."

They aimlessly wound their way back towards the house stopping here and there to accept people's greetings, thanks and congratulations. Golden light filtered out from the open windows of the large ball-room and Eleanor paused to watch the dancing couples.

"There's Draco," she smiled. "Seems he is having fun."

She felt Lucius halt by her side. "Yes, one of the Pucey girls, a Slytherin," he said matter-of-factly. "He asked me if he could invite her from school. The family is good enough for him, yet not influential enough to make trouble should Draco take more liberties with her than her parents would like him to."

Eleanor tilted her head at Lucius' cool assessment. "So she's good training material, but not quite making the cut for serious girl-friend in your opinion?"

He lifted a brow and smirked at her. "Precisely," he said.

"That's awful, Lucius," she said, finding herself rather upset with his callous reaction.

He lifted an eyebrow. "Come now, sweet. It's realistic. Malfoys don't settle for anything but the best. You should know that by now."

She knew it was also meant as a compliment to her as she watched the younger Malfoy laugh at some remark his companion had made and hold her to him as they moved through the intricate figures of the dance, robes flying. She felt happy for him and hoped his father would let him make his own choices rather than impose his evaluation of the situation on him.

"Ah, Lushiush!" suddenly slurred a booming voice next to her and as she turned in surprise she looked into the reddened face and slightly unfocused eyes of Cornelius Fudge. "Mrs. M-Malfoy!" He vigorously shook both their hands, staggering slightly.

A wave of wine-scent hit her as he now threw his arm around the blond wizard pulling them almost both to the ground. "You are one lucky bashtard…" he said and hiccoughed, and she watched her husband's eyes narrow in annoyance.

Eleanor hesitated for a moment, then she stretched up to place a quick kiss on Lucius' cheek. "My love, I'm dying of thirst. Please excuse me for a moment."

The glance that hit her out of grey eyes didn't look best pleased at her abandonment, but he released her. "Don't take too long," he admonished her.

Quickly she gathered her skirts and ascended the steps to the paved patio that led to the open doors of the ball room. Of course it was a case of desertion, but she found that Lucius' remarks about Miss Pucey had really annoyed her and she needed a brief break to compose herself. In the interim this was sweet revenge, and Fudge shouldn't prove to be more than her husband could handle by himself.

* * *

It was occasions like this that made Lucius grateful for being able to perform a bit of wandless magic if the need arose. Mrs. Fudge now knelt by the body of her unconscious husband while the blond wizard waved commandingly at some servants to carry the minister inside. 

"Don't worry," he reassured the witch. "He's just had a tad too much to drink. It can happen. I'm sure he'll come round in a few minutes. The house-elves will give him a sobering draught."

No one had seen him put a light stupefaction spell on the annoying drunk, and Fudge himself would be too inebriated to remember. He watched the servants levitate the body and he gave the minister's wife one last cold smile before her turned intent on finding Eleanor, who had abandoned him and in his opinion her wifely duties of standing by her husband.

As he entered the Silver Hall it didn't take him long to spot her. She stood near the buffet next to a large arrangement of fruit and talked to his sister, who had changed from her yellow ceremonial robes into a stunning black and red velvet gown. Cornelia had just moved forward and lightly raised Eleanor's gold and emerald necklace from her shoulder to give it a closer inspection.

He lifted an eyebrow in surprise. His older sister typically didn't get particularly friendly or even touchy with people she had just met. Now both women laughed, and Eleanor reached to her side to pick up a strawberry. He watched as she curved her lips around the glossy red flesh of the rather plump berry and took a slow, lingering bite. She lowered the fruit with a smile and he watched her tongue snake out to catch a stray drop of sweet juice.

He noted absent-mindedly that something was obviously wrong with the warming spells in the ball room when he suddenly saw a blond wizard in blue robes join the two women and tap his wife on her shoulder. She turned and smiled, waved at his sister and a moment later had joined the couples on the dance floor.

Lucius found himself unwilling to bear the sight of his wife dancing rather closely with Fritz Hauer, the Durmstrang quiddich coach and her former colleague. He steered a determined course through the crowd and moments later laid his hand on the teacher's shoulder. "Mind if I cut in?" he asked curtly, his eyes clearly showing that he wouldn't take 'no' for an answer.

The tall man turned and looked at him. "Oh, well, can't deny the husband, I suppose," he said with a strongly accented voice and gave his host an open, friendly smile. "You are to be envied, Mr. Malfoy." He elegantly stepped out of the way and bowed.

Lucius pulled the red-haired witch to him with a bit more force than was strictly necessary and eased into the steps of the dance as he felt her body make contact with his. He remembered her first tentative attempts to dance with him at the St. Mungo's charity ball she had attended with him six years ago. He had insisted even then she took lessons and now she moved with ease and fluid grace.

"Minister Fudge still among the living?" she teased him as he spun her into a tight turn. He gave a brief snort of amusement. "I knocked him out with a spell when he started drooling all over my robes. He should be inside somewhere with a very humiliated and pissed-off wife and a murderous headache. Serves him right."

With his eyes on the other dancers he steered them to the fringes of the dance floor. "And what do you think you were doing, leaving me in the lurch like that, hm?" he asked, gripping her hard and bending her backwards.

She gasped, wisps of her red hair flying as her body followed his lead. "Oh – lobbyists, drunks, little shady ministry deals… Lucius, this is our handfasting, we're supposed to enjoy ourselves! I just needed a break."

They were now dancing by themselves near the exit. "Then who am I to deny you, my dear?" he said, and suddenly moved her to the side. "_Invisibilis_," he murmured and pulled her behind a corner. "_Aperto portam_!"

A moment later a gateway had opened in the wall, and he led her down a torch-lit deserted corridor. The light that surrounded them for a moment faded, and she knew that the door had sealed itself again. Seconds later he had pushed her up against the wood-paneled wall, his rough breath sounding quite loud in the sudden quiet of the hallway. His powerful body pinned her in place and he buried his fingers in her hair as he captured her mouth in a bruising kiss.

"Lucius, we can't," she protested as he released her eventually. She squirmed against him. "We can't just abandon our guests." He held her and she felt his right knee insistently nudge between her thighs.

"Our guests don't give a bat's eye for our company. They have their food, drink, music, gossip and envy. Now they can even talk about us behind our backs. Oh, no, my dear, you demanded some fun. And some fun we'll have. The more you struggle, the better."

He looked down into her pleasantly flushed face and saw a brief, amused smirk before she lifted her hands to his shoulders to push him away. Her slim body arched off the wall as she fought him with just enough strength and determination to let him know that she enjoyed the game as much as he did.

He overpowered her quite easily and grasped her wrists as he forced her back. He could see her quick labored breath lift the creamy skin of her breasts above the tightly laced bodice of her gown. "I want you," he whispered. "Say it! Tell me!"

She shook her head, enjoying resisting him. He kissed her again and found her respond despite herself. He lightly bit her lips as he released her this time. She still tasted of strawberries.

"Tell me you want me," he urged her again. The grasp of his hands that pinned her wrists in place tightened to painful intensity. He saw her nostrils flare as the sensation hit her. Her hips ground against his.

His voice was nothing but a heated hiss by her ear as he leaned in. "Tell me, Eleanor!"

He felt her relax a little, almost ready to give in. But he was not ready to accept surrender just yet. Her struggle was just too delightful.

He curved his lips in a cruel smile as he continued. "You are my wife now. I will have obedience from you." He knew that would get a rise out of her, and felt hardly surprised as she spat at him like a cornered cat and tried to truly free herself now.

She wrestled him silently, determinedly, compressing her lips in frustration at his superior strength. Still, he found it quite hard to control her now. He pushed forward bringing his face against her neck and nudging his groin against her hip, sure she would be able to feel his arousal even through the skirts of her gown. "Just give in," he coaxed her. "You know you want to…"

He heard a sigh, and as he lifted his face to hers he saw her eyes glittering with excitement. For a moment she hesitated, making him wait for it, then she leaned in. "I want you Lucius," she told him. "I want you now, all of you."

The next second he had released her. "Here?" he asked, smirking at her. "Now, you say?"

She cuffed him on his arm. "You are impossible!" she complained.

He feigned complete disinterest for a moment. "Well, a husband is supposed to humor his wife's whims, my dear. You want me here? Here is where you'll have me."

His hands moved to pull up the skirts of her dress and soon he felt the warm, inviting flesh of her thighs under the silky smoothness of her stockings. His fingers moved up, following the contours of her legs past her garters to guide him through the maze of fabric that covered her, and then his brows arched in pleased surprise as he suddenly encountered the velvety lips of her cunt.

"But my dear, we are wearing no underwear tonight?" he purred. "How delightfully naughty and unprincipled for a married witch, especially for one acting so coy just a little while ago."

A moment later he had hoisted her up against the wall and felt her thighs move around his hips for leverage. With regret he abandoned her for a moment as his fingers fumbled to find the buttons on his trousers. The generous skirts of her dress proved to be a serious impediment, but Lucius always enjoyed a challenge. He found the current mix of difficulties and accessibility she presented in her gown quite stimulating.

He eventually succeeded in freeing his cock and blindly reached for her again letting his sense of touch guide him as he spread her slicked lips and stroked her, slipping two fingers into her. She grasped his shoulders to hold herself steady and her head sank to the side as she abandoned herself to his caresses. Her hair had come lose, cascading down her shoulders. She closed her eyes and her lips parted as she moaned with pleasure.

"Oh gods," she murmured. "Lucius!" The sight of her and the sound of her voice was more than any man with a drop of blood in him could bear.

"I want you," growled the blond wizard, echoing the words he had made her say earlier. "Gods, I never wanted you more, Eleanor." A throaty groan was his only answer.

He clenched his teeth as he reached down to position himself and then pushed into her with a force that caused the ancient wood-paneling of the hallway to creak and groan under the pressure. She cried out before he could capture her lips and stifle the sound of their mutual pleasure in a drawn-out kiss.

She rocked against him, her drive for release as determined as his own, and he reveled in the intensity with which she abandoned herself to him. He was sure neither of them would take long and he didn't mind. There would be enough time to savor her and take things slowly later, during their wedding night. Her fingers buried themselves in his shoulders now and he felt her thighs tighten around his hips in a vise-grip. "Come on," he grunted.

Her moans grew more urgent as he moved harder and faster, and a moment later she arched her head back and cried out. He felt the grip of her muscles as she contracted around him, the intensity of her climax enough to set him off. He staggered into her with a gasp, groaning and biting the side of her neck as his release washed over him. It seemed at the same time to last forever and yet was over much too soon.

She trembled in his arms as he steadied her and gently let her glide back to the floor. "Easy now," he told her softly and held her. "There, just get your feet beneath you. Can you stand?"

Eleanor lifted her head and licked her lips. "Ask me again next year," she quipped breathlessly and pushed her hair out of her face. A few twigs of the flowers the house-elves had braided and pinned into her tresses remained in her hands and she stared at them. "Gods, I'm a bloody mess," she complained.

He held her chin in his hand for emphasis. "You look more gorgeous than I have ever seen you," he told her. "You're flushed, sated, disheveled, and everything about you tells me you're entirely mine! You're perfect, and let no one convince you otherwise."

His complete seriousness let her pause and look at him. "Thank you, Lucius," she said, and he was sure she meant more than his compliment. He released her chin and stroked over her cheek. "You are always welcome, my dear," he murmured.

A moment later she had seemingly forgotten about her appearance as she placed a hand on his shoulder. "Lucius, what's that noise? There's people shouting!"

He let go of her and listened, hearing the sounds of running, cries and barked commands. His lips compressed in a thin line. "Merlin's balls, you're right!" He hurriedly buttoned up his trousers and gave her barely the time to smooth down her skirts as he drew her along with him. "Do you have your wand with you?" he asked her as they sped up the corridor back to the Silver Hall. She nodded, pulling the slim cherry-wood from her bodice.

A second later the secret doorway had admitted them back into the ball-room, where they found the feast in panicked disarray. Aurors had mingled with the guests, and Lucius grabbed one of them by the collar of his robes as he almost ran them over. "Report, man! What happened?"

The ministry employee focused and recognized the Lord of Malfoy Manor. "Your son," he said breathlessly. "They found Miss Pucey in a _petrificus_ on the lawn outside your house and young Mr. Malfoy is missing. Location spells have confirmed it. He's gone."


	14. Loyalties of a Potions Master

**Loyalties of a Potions Master**

_"All is not well. I doubt some foul play. Would the night were come! Till then sit still, my soul. Foul deeds will rise, Though all the earth o'erwhelm them, to men's eyes."(__William Shakespeare. Hamlet. I, ii)_

"What!" Lucius had turned deathly pale and did not release his grip on the auror's robes. "Who's in charge here? How could this happen?"

The Ministry wizard looked quite worried how. "The Unforgivable Maddock is in command. We don't know what happened yet. As a matter of fact, Mr. Belisarius and his companion raised the alarm. They found Miss Pucey."

Eleanor saw Lucius shake with barely suppressed fury. "Get me Maddock, this instance!" He pushed the auror out of his way and strode forward, calling to some of the other green-clad officials. "Detain everyone for statements. No one leaves! Where is Belisarius?" Eleanor followed him, feeling cold and shaken at the terrible news.

At the other side of the hall they found the imposing figure of the senior partner of the law firm among a cluster of guests and aurors. He talked to the Unspeakable in charge. A dark-clad, slender woman with raven-black hair stood by his side.

"Gaius, what the hell happened?" shouted Lucius as soon as he approached, and Eleanor watched Belisarius turn. She recognized the woman by his side as the vampire Desdemona, his lover and assistant.

Instead of her boss, it was her that answered.

"Lucius," she smiled, her red lips pulling back from her ivory fangs. "Always a particular pleasure to see you! Thank you for inviting me. I was in the garden when I found your son's little friend – such a pretty girl, very graceful neck. Seems Draco fought someone near where she lay. The ground had been torn up and there was blood on the grass." Her nostrils flared briefly at her mention of blood and her tone seemed rather teasing.

The blond wizard, however, was in no mood for games. He grabbed the vampire by her shoulders. "What were you doing in the garden? How do you know it was Draco who was involved in the fight? Answer me!"

With sinuous grace she wound herself out of his grip. "Why, my dear, smelling the flowers, of course, I would hardly be so ill mannered as to hunt your guests. And as to the blood, do you think I would no longer recognize the scent of Malfoy blood? I remember its exquisite taste quite well from our little games, as you should recall."

Everyone surrounding them now craned their necks to listen in. Any story involving the Lord of Malfoy Manor and a vampire should make for extremely juicy gossip. Lucius didn't take her bait. "What else can you tell us? Speak!"

Desdemona shrugged her alabaster shoulders and stepped back to stand next to her master. She clearly enjoyed the exchange and Lucius' desperate dependence on her for information. "Like you, my dear, I was too late to see what happened."

She shook back her hair and tilted her head as she regarded the wizard. Her nostrils flared as if she was just catching a scent of something. Her next words dripped with contempt. "You know, if you hadn't been busy screwing her, you would probably have been able to protect your son. The stink of it is still on you both."

A second later a loud slap echoed through the ball-room. Belisarius lowered his hand as the vampire was staggering under the blow of a powerful hit to her face. "That is enough!" said the advocatus, his face stony and expressionless.

Desdemona straightened herself, licking her own blood from her split lip in obvious pleasure. "No one defeats the Dark Lord. We children of the night know," she smiled. "Take care of yourself, Lucius." A moment later an empty black gown rustled to the floor and a small grey bat disappeared through the open door and into the dark night air.

"Hold her," hollered Maddock, but it was too late. A few aurors rushed over to the windows, but the rest of the group just watched Lucius, who now ran his long, pale hands through his hair.

"I apologize for her rudeness," said Belisarius. "She will be punished, of course."

The blond wizard sighed. "It wasn't her," he said tiredly. "But I need to check something else." He turned to his wife. "Eleanor, please stay with the aurors, have them show you the spot where the abduction happened. Find out anything you can for me. I need to leave you for a moment."

She laid her hand on his arm. "Lucius…" she began, but he cut her short, his voice low and fierce.

"If you love me, do this for me. Help me. Don't second-guess me. I need to be able to rely on you now, and I need your trust and your strength."

He didn't wait for an answer from her, but turned on his heel and left them. The last Eleanor heard as she concentrated on the Unspeakable was her husband's commanding voice calling for the house elves to bring him his serpent cane with his wand.

* * *

About twenty minutes later Eleanor found herself alone in a quiet corner of the Silver Hall. Most guests had disapparated in the general panic and confusion. The realization that Death Eaters had been in their very midst and might very well still be prowling the Manor grounds had scared almost everyone off, despite the aurors' attempts to detain people for questioning. 

Unspeakable Maddock seemed very upset about the loss of witnesses, but Eleanor had reminded him that they had a guest list and could still catch up with everyone over the next few days should that prove necessary. She doubted very much that they would find any witnesses to the abduction. Her examination of the garden in the company of the aurors had convinced her that the attack had been well planned and executed, and until Miss Pucey had been revived they would not make any progress with the investigation.

Detection spells had turned up nothing, and aside from some trampled grass and a little blood that turned out to be really Draco's they had no leads. Marigold had accompanied a few aurors that had transported Miss Pucey to the hospital and would take a statement as soon as she could. The three Durmstrang teachers seemed to have vanished in the general confusion. Eleanor could hardly blame them.

She noted out of the corner of her eye that Cornelia and Armand had stayed. Both talked to Belisarius, Tethering and some aurors near one of the windows. It seemed the Malfoys had some sense of family loyalty after all.

'Lucius!' she thought suddenly. She had done everything he had asked of her, tried to discover everything she could. It was time she looked him up and found out why he'd had to leave so suddenly.

She pulled her wand from her dress and murmured a quick location spell. Lucius was still in the Manor, in a small, seldom used storage room in the north wing. Shaking her head in confusion at the strange location she gathered her skirts, looked around if anyone was paying any attention and snuck out of the ball room. She felt it would be unwise to have anyone note her absence or even follow her.

Her sudden urge for secrecy prevented her from lighting her wand and she had to admit she felt spooked by her passage through the dark, echoing corridors of the ancient house. Strange rustlings and whispers accompanied her on her path and once or twice she halted in a defensive stance, wand at the ready. No one challenged her, however, and she quickly proceeded, until the muffled noise of shouting made her freeze in mid-step.

She thought she briefly recognized Lucius' voice, then a hoarse cry of pain cut him off. "Hecate," she murmured, suddenly feeling foolish for having slipped away all alone. If the Death Eaters were still around she would confront them without any backup.

Eleanor swallowed, gripped her wand and murmured a protection spell, then she rushed towards the source of the voices crossing the last few yards of darkened hallways. A moment later she had thrown open an old, heavy oak door and froze at the unlikely sight that met her eyes.

Lucius towered over the figure of a dark-haired man in black robes, who lay as a crumpled heap on the floor. His wand was pointed at his victim and she heard his voice. "You would be dead, if I didn't think you held the key to Draco's whereabouts. Speak, you traitor! I will kill you eventually! _Cru-_…"

He whirled around at the sound of the opening door and now jabbed his wand at the intruder. Eleanor barely recognized him under his mask of desperate fury. For a moment his pale eyes did not seem to take in who she was, and she felt almost sure that the _cruciatus_ he had begun to incant would hit her. Then he lowered his wand with a gasp.

"You!" he said accusingly. "I told you not to follow me."

Eleanor craned her neck trying to get a glimpse of the man on the floor.

"You told me to find out everything about the abduction. I did that. You did not forbid me from searching for you. What are you doing? Who is this?"

"Leave!" he snarled, but she stood her ground.

"You asked me to trust you. What about your trust for me? What are you hiding from me? I'm your wife." Just then the wizard on the floor lifted himself up on his hands and knees with a groan and she recognized him at last.

"Oh Merlin! It's Severus! Lucius, what in the name of Hecate is going on here?"

The Hogwarts potions master coughed and spat blood on the floor. "Your husband is in the process of torturing me to death, in case the finer points of the situation are eluding you." His voice sounded weak and reedy, but the old sarcasm appeared undiminished. He turned and sat up, his brown eyes meeting Lucius' icy stare in defiance. He looked terrible.

Eleanor barely reflected on her actions, but a moment later she had crouched on the floor by the side of her former colleague, steadying him. "Lucius, what are you doing?" She almost quailed under the hatred that she read in her husband's eyes.

"Get away from him!" he said, his voice no more than a threatening whisper.

"I will," she said. "If you can satisfy me that your behavior is justified."

For a moment she was sure she had finally overstepped her bounds, and even as she reflected on the events of her wedding night much later, she felt certain that anyone else who had dared to challenge him in the way she had would have died or worse.

Her husband briefly closed his eyes, and when he looked at her again, she knew he had mastered himself for her sake. He picked up the potion master's wand and put him into a leg lock to prevent any escape, then he started pacing the small room in nervous energy as he explained himself.

"You will hardly need me to repeat the argument I made to you at the hospital, Eleanor. We have someone here, who did exactly what was needed to leave us open to a poison attack, someone who knows Malfoy Manor, its layout and many of its secrets, someone who knows potions as well as poisons, who could supply the Dark Lord with the _exsanguinium_ philter. Woollett was merely a tool – and an inept one at that. Do you really think he planned and executed my assassination attempt without help?

Now Severus shows up here again. How do you think the Death Eaters were able to abduct Draco? He led them right to him. He's been behind this whole plot from the beginning. He's been behind every attack on our family since the summer."

He whirled around to point an accusing finger at her.

"And now you dare step to the side of this traitorous scum to protect him when I am trying to make him reveal what they have done to my son? Is this your loyalty? Is this the measure of your love for me?"

Eleanor stood up again and spoke with some vehemence of her own: "No, Lucius, the measure of my love for you is the fact that I am stopping you from killing someone who I believe you once called your friend. I don't want his blood on your hands. I don't want you accused of murder, of casting the unforgivables. Haven't you had enough of Azkaban prison for one year?"

They stared at each other over the body of Professor Snape, wounded and angry with each other's choices, when the potions master cleared his throat.

"Oh for Merlin's sake, you two! This is pointless. Look, Lucius, as I tried to tell you before: I'll take some Veritaserum if you don't believe me. At least it's less painful."

Snape's rather rational suggestion seemed to take the elder Malfoy by surprise. He sighed and sat down heavily on a wooden chest.

"You would?" he said. "Why didn't you say so?"

"You never fucking listen!" coughed an exasperated Snape. "You never listened when we were at school, you never listened when you were a Death Eater, and you still don't listen now. It's always 'curse first, ask questions later' with you."

"Fine," growled Lucius and summoned a house elf to bring the potion. He actually helped Eleanor lift the Hogwarts teacher off the floor and settle him on some bales of Dragon hide and jarvey furs. Snape groaned and coughed up more blood, but did not complain. The elf reappeared with a small glass vial of Veritaserum.

A few minutes later Lucius and Eleanor watched the potion master's eyes grow heavy. "Do you think he could have taken an antidote ahead of time, the way he volunteered?" The blond wizard whispered.

Eleanor looked at him. "Well, once you really decide that paranoia is the way forward you might as well commit yourself to the mental ward at St. Mungo's. As far as I'm aware there is no known antidote to Veritaserum. Why don't we hear what he has to say?"

For a moment Lucius' grey eyes met hers, and he laid his hand on her bare shoulder. "What I said earlier – forget it," he said gruffly. "I don't question your loyalty." She hid a small smile. Of course he would not apologize, ever, but his words came so close to it her ears rang.

"I know," she replied running her fingers over his chest in a quick caress.

Lucius turned to Snape. "What do you know of the attempt to poison me?" he asked.

The potion master's voice sounded lifeless and dull as he answered. "Nothing. It seems I am not in the trust of the Dark Lord any more. He expected more help with Draco, and when I proved less of an asset than he hoped, considering my position at Hogwarts, he began to withdraw his favor. I am glad these days if I can attend a meeting without attracting his attention. I believe my days as a double agent are numbered."

"Why didn't you assist the Dark Lord with regards to my son?"

For a moment Snape's mouth thinned as if he tried to fight the impulse to answer, then his face grew slack again. "I've envied Draco ever since he came to Hogwarts."

"Envy? Why on earth would you envy my son?"

"You just had to listen to him: 'my father this… my father that…' He wouldn't shut up about you. He worships the ground you walk on. He wants to be just like you.

I've seen what you've done for him: getting him a place on the quiddich team, going to his games, trying to even sway politics at Hogwarts the way you think is best for him. I remember how you went after that hippogriff when it attacked the boy three years ago. Look at you now. You'd kill anyone who harms Draco; you'd go to the ends of the world for him. That's why."

"What's that to you, Severus?"

"I hated my father. I hated the way he treated my mother, I hated the way he treated me. I wanted to be as far away from him, as unlike him as I could. He used to beat us. He eventually abandoned us.

Have you ever wondered why I never tried to have a family? I didn't want to repeat the disaster that I had to call my childhood. I wish I'd had the kind of father you are to your son. I wish I could have been the kind of father you are."

Snape's voice had grown bitter and Eleanor saw a strange expression of doubt on Lucius' face. His next words surprised her.

"I'm not a good father, Severus. I've tried to make up through money what I didn't spend in time and affection. I've always seen Draco more as the heir of Malfoy than as my child. You know when I truly realized he was my son? Realized that I loved him? When I was in Azkaban. When I had to come to terms with the possibility that I might never see him again. When I knew I might never get to speak to the man he'd grow up to be. When I understood he might come to hate and despise me for my actions."

He straightened himself and paused, seemingly embarrassed about letting his guard slip. His next remark was more in keeping with the attitude she knew.

"You know, Severus, if I'm anything like your role model, you father really must have been scum," he sneered.

Snape sat still for a moment. When he spoke again his voice sounded soft and thoughtful.

"I tried to protect Draco as if he was my own. I tried to protect what you two had. What I never had, and never will have. That's why I came with him today. To try and prevent what eventually happened. I watched over him like a hawk all afternoon, but then he finally managed to give me the slip– I would think he wanted some time alone with Miss Pucey."

Lucius bent forward, alert now, like a coiled snake. "You knew that this was going to happen?"

Snape slumped even further into the storage bales. "The barest outline. Draco hasn't just been abducted. He's been kidnapped for a ransom."

"What's the ransom?"

"The Mirror of Battle. The Dark Lord and some of the other Death Eaters were talking about it, that it was a powerful weapon, that you had the means to get it for them. They will offer you a trade: the life of your son for the magical artifact. You should be getting an owl shortly."

"What if we don't comply?"

"Draco will be killed very slowly and painfully. I imagine they will eventually return his remains, so you can see for yourself the agony that was inflicted on him."

"And if we pay the ransom?"

Even under the drug Snape couldn't hide his amusement. "Lucius, Lucius, have you forgotten about your former master so soon? He will take what you have to give, and then Draco will die anyway, perhaps a little faster, if the Dark Lord is in a merciful mood. They will watch you as you recover the mirror, and as soon as you have it they will strike. The eventual outcome will be the same."

Eleanor turned away. "Woollett did his worst," she sighed. "He told Voldemort what he knew. I've doomed us all."

She heard Lucius sit down again. "Gods," he groaned. "We resist, we kill him. We comply we kill him. My son is already as good as dead. Draco, what did I do?"

The potions master stirred, and as Eleanor looked at him she saw his eyes regain their focus. The Veritaserum seemed to be wearing off. He caught her glance and grimaced. "Believe me now?" he challenged them.

Lucius jutted out his chin at him, his anger still fresh, but then his shoulders sagged. She had rarely seen him look this broken and defeated. "Yes, Severus, I believe you. You're a proud, stubborn son-of-a-bitch without a shred of self-pity. You would have never voluntarily spoken about your father. But what does it matter now? What does anything matter?"

Snape gave him an appraising glance. "Well, it's time I took my stand, I guess, and of the two wizards who ever laid a _cruciatus_ on me I guess I like you a little bit better. What if you could secure the mirror without the Death Eaters observing you?"

The blond wizard gave a dry, mirthless laugh and pulled back his left sleeve. "None of us is ever unobserved," he said, revealing the dark mark. "That is something you should remember about our former master. The Dark Lord always knows."

Snape raised an eyebrow. "There, my friend, you are wrong," he said.


	15. An Alchemistical Solution

**An Alchemistical Solution**

_"You can only support yourself on something that resists you." (Proverb)_

Eleanor tried to stifle a sneeze as she bent over a glass jar filled with finely powdered iron filings. The alchemist's study at Malfoy Manor was reeking with fumes from a bronze cauldron perched over a small, but very hot fire. She carefully ladled three spoonfuls of the iron into a flat porcelain dish and passed them to a tall black-clad man who was busy mumbling to himself and stirring the bubbling contents of the cauldron.

"Careful now, pour them in very slowly. We don't want this to explode. Could take out half the house," warned Severus Snape, not lifting his eyes from his concoction.

She looked at him with raised brows as she carefully added small quantities of the powder. "Thanks for telling me something to steady my hands here," she quipped, but the potions master didn't answer.

Eleanor sighed inwardly. Even though Lucius had left them a little while ago to see off the aurors and last remaining guests and to take his leave of his sister, things between the Malfoys and the Hogwarts professor were still awkward. Severus seemed embarrassed about the confessions he had made under the truth serum, and Eleanor still felt disturbed by the fact that her husband had tried to brutally kill the man a mere few hours earlier.

"Don't burn your sleeve," snapped Snape suddenly, and Eleanor drew back quickly. "Damn stupid outfit for potions-making," he snarled and briefly looked up at her.

She turned away to hide her annoyance and placed the empty dish on a side table. "Well, if you remember, I originally planned to just get handfasted today," she said.

"Yeah, looks like the Dark Lord had other ideas," he replied. A moment later he impatiently waved at her. "Come on, hurry up, I need the melted beeswax and the ground carnelian now!" He obviously enjoyed bossing her around.

She felt too tired to even pretend she took objection to his behavior. All that mattered now was to finish cooking the salve in the cauldron and make plans for their next steps in countering Voldemort's attack and rescuing Draco.

After Lucius had finally been convinced that Severus did not have a hand in the poisoning incident or in his son's abduction he had reluctantly agreed to accept the potions master's offer of help. They had given the teacher a glass of pepper-up potion and Eleanor had used _empathicura _to counteract some of the aftereffects of the curses. Then they had left the storage room and gathered in the dining hall to discuss their strategy.

Severus had pulled back the sleeve of his robe and had revealed his own Death Eater mark, the dark lines of the design crisscrossed by the jagged white scars of a knife. Eleanor compressed her lips. The cuts still spoke of the vicious determination with which the man had once tried in vain to excise the stain of his allegiance. Strangely, his forearm had a somewhat yellowed and glossy look to it and she reluctantly stretched out a finger to touch it.

"What's this?" she said as she encountered a quite cool, waxy surface instead of the expected warm softness of skin.

Severus had spoken to her rather than to his old fellow Slytherin. "It's one of the strongest shielding preparations known to alchemists. Under normal circumstances the Dark Lord can activate the mark through is will alone, and would immediately know where any of his Death Eaters happen to be. This way he can follow you and Lucius anywhere you go." His hand slid over the mark. "With this, the connection is broken. You could move unobserved."

Lucius leaned back in his chair. "That's helpful, but where would we go?" He looked expectantly at his wife.

"Cologne," said Eleanor with some conviction as Snape covered up his arm again.

The potions master raised an eyebrow at her. "Wermuth practiced in Basel all his life," he said. "Why Cologne?"

Eleanor absent-mindedly picked the remnants of orange blossoms out of her hair. "The more I read about the mirror in Lucius' notes and remembered incidents and stories from my childhood the more I am convinced that the Mirror of Battle left Switzerland with my grandmother."

Now Lucius looked at her in surprise. "You told me once your ancestral home got turned into a museum after your uncle's family was killed. Surely the mirror would have been discovered and inventoried. Its whereabouts would not have been a secret all these years."

The red-haired witch leaned forward. "I thought so, too, in the beginning. So I next assumed that the mirror must have come here with my mother as she was Matilda's only child, but over the last few years I have been searching my old home, my father's bookstore and my vault at Gringotts so many times to locate various things that I would have noticed something like an enchanted mirror. I am sure that the item is still in Germany."

Both Lucius and Severus seemed unconvinced.

"That's pure conjecture," said the Hogwarts teacher dismissively.

"Well, there's something I've been meaning to test, I just haven't had the time over the last few weeks," said Eleanor. She clapped, called a house-elf and gave him instructions.

A few minutes later the magical creature reappeared staggering under the weight of a thick, leather-bound volume, which he plunked down on the dining-room table in front of her. Eleanor opened it and turned a few leaves. Eventually she pushed the book over to the two wizards.

Lucius craned his neck and looked at it.

"It's an old photograph of the insides of a wardrobe," he said with a puzzled and disappointed look on his face. "It's pretty untidy and there are two bats in it, fighting."

Eleanor smiled at him. "What can you see on the top shelf?" she asked him.

Her husband sighed, but decided to humor her.

"A wooden chest with some runes carved into it, a pile of books, an old pointed hat, some folded robes and – I guess that's a monkey skull?"

"Severus, what do you make of it?" she asked.

Snape shrugged. "Yep, that's about right," he said, "Though I think that's a kappa skull."

Eleanor's smile turned triumphant. "There is an object there in the left corner that looks like a round hat box with an Eye of Ra painted on it. Neither of you sees that?"

Both men looked again and shook their heads. "No, the corner is empty," said Lucius with conviction.

She pointed at the photograph. "That's it," she cried excitedly. "That's the mirror. The size of the box corresponds with the mirror measurements that are indicated by your research, Lucius. And the blood of kin spell prevents you from seeing it! It's still somewhere in the house, maybe even in this very spot where it was photographed about forty years ago. We just have to pick it up. And now that we are free of Voldemort's surveillance, it should be a walk in the park."

Lucius and Severus exchanged a meaningful glance.

"What!" she asked impatiently.

Eventually it was the blond wizard, who answered her. "Well, for once, the Dark Lord can still track our magic. He is more powerful than you think, and his spell location abilities are great. As soon as we perform spellwork he will be on to us, whether I have my mark covered or not. Secondly, do you think the German Historical Wizarding Society will let us go into a museum and walk out with a proscribed magical weapon, just like that? How do you think we'll even get to Germany without being discovered?"

Eleanor sighed and slammed the photo album shut. "Oh, come on!" she said. "Muggles travel all over the place every day without a shred of magic. We can get to Cologne without a single spell within a day. And what the German Historical Wizarding Society doesn't know can't bother them."

She looked at her husband. "You lot broke into that place six years ago, when George Lepidus tried to find Falco Sartorius' homunculus for the Death Eaters. Don't tell me you've gone all virtuous or something and were going to ask nicely this time!"

The blond wizard shook his head. "I didn't break in," he assured her, then smirked as he remembered. "I have an alibi that involved our bedroom, certain curtain fastenings and some vorax potion, as you may recall." Even Eleanor had to smile now as she remembered their first night together.

Snape cleared his throat, obviously annoyed or embarrassed by their banter. "So, I gather you do want some of the shielding salve?" he asked impatiently.

Both Malfoys turned to him, nodding, and the potions master next rattled off a long list of ingredients that he would need in order to cook up a batch.

So they had split up with Eleanor assisting her former colleague in the alchemist's study and Lucius clearing Malfoy Manor and re-warding the place. The less potential witnesses to their plans existed now, the better.

Eleanor was pulled out of her reveries when the contents of Snape's cauldron started hissing and bubbling rather viciously. "Douse the fire," he called to her, while he continued stirring.

She pulled out her wand and quickly murmured an extinguishing spell.

The noise of a closing door alerted her, and as she turned she saw Lucius stalk back into the room. He looked grim as he approached them and slammed a piece of parchment on the ingredients table.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Well, they've made their next move," he said, hatred coloring his voice. "An owl just delivered this."

With some trepidation Eleanor picked up the slightly crumpled vellum and immediately had to bend down as a strand of hair slipped out of it and fell to the floor. She picked up the white-blond tresses and knew as she held them between her fingers that they could belong to no one other than Draco.

With a grim expression she studied the curled and frayed ends and shook her head. "They were ripped out rather than cut off," she said and felt Lucius' hand on her back as he leaned in.

"Prisoners of the Dark Lord are not treated with consideration," he said flatly and touched the proof that his son was now in the hands of his worst enemy.

She next concentrated on the note that had contained the hair.

_"To the warlock who has betrayed us,_

_As you must know by now, we have something you value, just as you have acquired by handfasting the right to something we value. We therefore propose an exchange: the Mirror of Battle against your only son and heir. Once the mirror is in your possession we will contact you to arrange an exchange. If you wish to behold Draco again in your life, you and your wife will comply. Do not believe you can betray us again. Our eyes and ears are everywhere._

_L.V."_

Eleanor looked to the side to catch a glimpse of her husband's face. She felt troubled by the fact that nowhere in the note could she see the promise that Draco would be returned to them alive. However, she refrained from voicing that concern to him when she saw the mix of impotent anger and anxiety in his pale grey eyes.

His arm tightened around her. "I know," he whispered hoarsely, seemingly heaving read her mind. "He doesn't promise he will keep him alive. – But I have to believe…"

"As long as he is unsure of us, he won't kill him," she reassured him. "He knows that once he's destroyed our hope of getting him back alive we will not give him what he wants. I'd rather break the mirror into a thousand pieces than let him have it if he murders Draco."

Snape joined them holding out a small flat container filled with a thick, honey-golden substance. It smelt vaguely of beeswax and pine resin.

"There's the shielding salve. Be careful when you apply it, it's still quite hot. Make sure you cover every bit of the dark mark, and refresh it regularly. You'll find that it holds up to water quite well."

Lucius took the vessel and sniffed it. "For once you've actually cooked up something that doesn't have an infernal stink to it, Severus. I'm impressed." he said.

The potions master turned away without a comment and busied himself with the ingredients that he had used, re-corking bottles and putting the lids back on jars and boxes. Eleanor joined him. "Thank you for this," she said, and finally managed to catch his eyes. He looked grim.

"Just get him back," he replied, his voice still somewhat rough. "He shouldn't be made to pay for Lucius' mistakes. You better be right about the location of the mirror – and you better be fast. The Dark Lord is not very patient. Any error on your part and Draco will die for sure."

He scraped the rest of the salve out of the cauldron and into a large glass jar. His normally fluid movements seemed rough and jerky to her. "Try to get word to me when you have retrieved the mirror," he said. "I may be able to help you."

"Help us, how?" asked Lucius, his voice still tinged with suspicion.

"I believe the Order would come to your aid in this," Snape said calmly.

"Dumbledore!" hissed the blond wizard dismissively.

The next second Eleanor staggered back in surprise as the Hogwarts teacher suddenly whipped around and grabbed his former schoolmate by the lapels of his robe.

"Listen to me, Lucius," he snarled. "One time in your life listen to me! Get it into that arrogant, stubborn, aristocratic head of yours that the Order of the Phoenix are probably the only people these days that are standing between you and annihilation!

If Draco really does die, do you want to be able to tell yourself he died despite the fact you did everything you could, or that he died because of your damn pig-headed pride!

I swear to you, if I find that you didn't do everything in your power as a father to save the life of your son, I will ask Lord Voldemort for the privilege of torturing you to death. And if everything in your power means asking Dumbledore's aid, then you will get on your knees and beg him, even if I have to hold you down myself, so Merlin help me!"

Lucius jerked himself out of Snape's grip, his mouth twisting in fury. He took a step back and laid his hand on his cane. "Take care now, Severus," he threatened. "If you think that losing Draco has weakened me, or that accepting your help has put me in your debt, you are mistaken. You should remember who you are talking to. You should remember your place."

The dark-haired man laughed mirthlessly. "My place? I know my place, but I doubt you still remember yours. Come and find me in my place when you are prepared to face reality." He paused and made ready to leave, but in the door to the laboratory he turned back to them once more.

"Do it for Draco," he added, his voice almost pleading with them now. "For once, Lucius, do the right thing."


	16. Undercover Honeymoon

**Undercover Honeymoon**

_"Marriage is an adventure, like going to war." (G.K. Chesterton)_

Lucius found he had to make an effort to steady his hands as he battled with the laces of his wife's dress. Underneath the velvet and spider silk she wore a tightly fastened dragon bone corset, and as he gently worked his fingers underneath the starched fabric and released the stays he could hear her inhale deeply.

Her proud, erect stance slouched somewhat as she leaned forward and steadied herself against the carved wood that supported the canopy of their bed. He realized that her straight-backed pose earlier had as much to do with the artifice of her French dress-maker as with her proud determination to see this latest attack through with him.

Ever since Eleanor had accepted his proposal in summer he had anticipated this very moment in his mind. He had imagined how they might consume their marriage after so many years of waiting. None of the scenarios he had pictured had remotely resembled what he was facing now.

He felt hollow inside, desperately clinging on to his anger so he would not have to imagine Draco sufferingat the hands of the Dark Lord. He knew that if he allowed himself to see is son as injured,in painor dead he would crack; he would not be able to fight this battle.

He had finally unlaced the last fastening and lifted the stiff garment away from her dropping it on the floor as she turned in his arms to face him. Heat radiated from her skin and through the thin silk shift she was wearing. Her eyes met his.

"Well, I guess you didn't think you'd be getting yourself in quite this deep quite this fast when you bound yourself to me," he said.

His tone was light, but he needed to gauge her reaction. He had been pleased to see that Draco and Eleanor had managed to strike up a somewhat amiable relationship over the summer and that his son's attitude had changed from sullen rejection of the new woman in his father's life to courteous respect. Yet the young man was not her own child. How far would she go to help him?

As an answer she smiled and stepped deeper into his embrace. He felt her warmth against his body and tightened his arms around her, but she arched her shoulders away from him just enough to continue keeping her eyes locked with his. Her lips curved into a small smile, and then she quietly quoted his sister's words from the ceremony back at him.

"'Strength to do what you must do, when you must do it, and together as one'," she said. Her right hand touched his face. "A Sartorius does not break her promise. This is my fight as much as it is yours. We can only win together, with both of our skills and knowledge combined. Voldemort knows you, he knows how you think, but he doesn't know me. Therefore we can surprise him. On the other hand, while I know little of him and his abilities, you can anticipate his movements, and so he won't be able to trap us. That should give us an advantage."

She started unbuttoning his robes. "How about a bath, and then I'll need a crash course on the Death Eaters and your former master. We'll come up with a plan."

He shrugged off his coat and stilled her hands for a moment. "I had hoped for a different end to this day," he told her quietly, acknowledging the unquestioning readiness with which she had committed herself to helping him.

For a moment she lowered her eyes, and he thought he could detect a faint blush on her neck and shoulders. "Me too," she confessed. "Though, at least I wasn't expecting to sleep much tonight. I guess I'm still right on that count."

* * *

Drizzly, clammy fog shrouded the grounds of Malfoy Manor when two dark and silent figures made their furtive way down the graveled main drive way of the house at first light the next morning. The man and woman wore long coats and each carried a small suitcase. House-elves had carefully scouted the garden and park beforehand and had been unable to locate any spies. 

In the entrance hall Eleanor had seen Lucius nod grimly at the news. "They think they won't have to shadow us. The Dark Lord still believes he can activate my mark any time he needs to know where we are. By the time he will learn otherwise we should be far away from here."

She had picked up what little baggage she had packed earlier. "Good," she had said. "Let's keep them in the dark for as long as we can. No magic!"

He had looked at them in their muggle disguises, his lips twitching in displeasure. "No magic," he had echoed her.

Now they were on their way to Gillington, which had a small railway station that would eventually get them into Reading, the first leg of their journey. Eleanor felt apprehensive about immersing Lucius in the muggle world in this way, but he had agreed with her that it would be a move Voldemort would not anticipate, simply because it was something he would never have considered himself if left to his own counsel.

When they finally walked down the sleepy main street of the small Wiltshire town Eleanor already felt less happy about her plan. Her fingers were numb from the cold and the weight of the suitcase and she shuddered as the wet cold cut through her clothes despite the heavy wool coat she was wearing. The witch realized with a jolt how far she had separated herself from her former muggle existence over the last six years. It took her a real effort of will to refrain from spellwork.

"There," she said with relief in her voice as she finally spotted the signpost for the small train station. They waited for an old delivery van to pass before they crossed the road and ducked under the cast-iron and glass arcade of the small Victorian building. A few early commuters stood huddled near the ticket office, reading newspapers, smoking, and generally trying to keep out of the light rain.

Lucius took in his surroundings with an air of profound contempt, but followed Eleanor and did not comment as she made her way through the waiting passengers and purchased two tickets. "This includes the coach fare to Heathrow," said the old man behind the glass pane of the counter and sneezed as he pushed two slips of paper towards her. "Buses leave from outside Reading station every thirty minutes."

As she pocketed the tickets Lucius touched her elbow. "Let's get out of here," he said quietly. "This place is disgusting."

She raised a questioning eyebrow at him. "It's dry," she said.

His lips curled in revulsion. "It stinks of muggles, wet dogs, cold smoke and piss. I'd rather get wet," he declared.

She sighed. "It won't get any better you know." But she let him lead her out onto the platform where she finally set down her suitcase. Shivering in the cold she flipped up the collar of her coat to protect her face against the biting wind that hit her. He wordlessly stepped around her and stood in the path of the draught shielding her with his body until the eastbound train arrived.

Eleanor was glad to see that at this time of the morning and this far out from any major city the train was still quiet empty, and they found a small compartment to themselves. At least this way no one took offence at Lucius choice of swear words when he realized he'd almost sat down on a gob of chewing gum that some idiot had stuck on the threadbare and dirty upholstery of his seat.

He looked around and found that the alternatives didn't look much better. Eventually he folded up a discarded newspaper to swipe the contents of a bag of potato chips from another seat. "Merlin, how filthy and disgusting can these muggles get?" he snarled. "I've seen packs of gnomes behave better." He unbuttoned his coat and hung it up before settling in with a sneer.

With a jolt the train started up again, and soon they had left Gillingham and looked out of the window at the bleak landscape that moved past them. The grey light of morning slowly brightened, but it would remain a rainy, blustery day. Eleanor noticed that curiosity had got the better of her husband, and he was sneaking some furtive looks at the muggle newspaper that lay carelessly thrown across the seat next to him.

She watched him as he read. Draco's abduction had finally made him give in and wear some of the muggle clothes she had sent him during his exile and which he apparently had not thrown away when his sentence had been revoked. He had put on a pair of pleated black wool pants and a black, fitted turtleneck sweater that brought out his chest and shoulders to best advantage, though Eleanor knew better than to compliment him on it.

His hair he had gathered at the nape of his neck and bound it tightly with a leather strap. To a cursory observer Lucius might pass as a slightly eccentric London fashion designer who was attempting to channel a more youthful and sexier version of Karl Lagerfeld, but again, this was an observation she wisely decided to keep to herself.

She felt increasingly sleepy as the train passed through the small towns on their way. When they stopped at the stations she half-opened her eyes to read the signs: Pewsey, Bedwyn, Hungerford, Kintbury, Newbury, and then settled down again into a light doze.

At the station in Theale the door to their compartment opened and the conductor and two commuters in suits joined them. Eleanor showed their tickets and noticed a satisfied smirk on Lucius' face when she turned back to him. One of the men now sat in the seat with the discarded gum, but of course her husband had not bothered to warn the muggle. He obviously found the man's misfortune quite amusing.

Biting down on a grin she tried to give him a slightly disapproving stare, but he merely raised his brows and shrugged his shoulders. It was clear he saw right through her. They didn't talk in front of the other passengers until their train arrived in Reading. It was now mid-morning, and Eleanor looked forward to the coach-ride to Heathrow airport with some apprehension.

* * *

"We are not supposed to get into that vehicle with these people?" hissed Lucius' disbelieving voice into her ear as she watched the coach driver load their suitcases into the luggage compartments of the bus a little while later. The cold, clammy air outside Reading station was laced with diesel fumes. 

They were surrounded by what appeared to be a school-class of boisterous thirteen-year-olds, several sets of parents trying to control cranky, wailing, small children and some business travelers who looked about as exasperated at the general racket as her husband.

"Afraid so, Lucius," she told him under her breath and laid a calming hand on his arm. "It won't take long, I promise. Come on, let's get on." She couldn't be quite sure, but she thought she caught a faint growl from him.

They picked out two seats towards the back of the bus and saw to their relief that most of the other passengers elected to stay at the front. However, just as the coach got ready to leave a woman and a four-year-old got on and settled in right behind them.

Eleanor sighed and hoped the child would behave itself. She cast the occasional nervous glance at her companion and noticed Lucius' lips compress in an ever thinner line as the ride continued. Finally he leaned in on her. "If this muggle brat is kicking the back of my seat one more time…" His quiet, but venomous words trailed off threateningly.

With a sigh she lifted herself up and twisted in her seat. "Excuse me," she told the woman. "Would you terribly mind keeping your son from kicking my husband's back?"

The muggle woman looked at her disapprovingly out of small, narrow-set eyes. "Look," she said shrilly. "The seat rows are much too tight. My son needs some space. You can't expect a little one like this to be quiet. Just move somewhere else if he's bothering you."

Eleanor sat back with an apologetic shrug of her shoulders. "Antiauthoritarian education," she said loudly enough for the woman to hear. "Quite the rage among some people."

Lucius' pale eyes narrowed and he gave her a curt nod that told her clearly he didn't want any interference, then he turned around and peered at the boy sitting behind him. The kid, feeling quite protected by the attitude of his mother sank his shoes into the soft upholstery and looked up at him in provocation just to make a point.

"You know," said Lucius conversationally staring down at the boy out of cold grey eyes. "I am friends with Bob Newton from kindergarten who put your head down the toilet in the girls' bathroom once. If you don't sit still now, I'll look him up and tell him to lock you into the dark closet with the cleaning stuff at the end of the hallway, the one you are afraid to get near to. There's a boggart in there, you know. And if you're trapped in there in the dark, he'll come and suck your brain out through your nose."

He dropped his voice to a quiet snarl. "If you'd rather avoid that, I suggest you keep your filthy muggle feet out of my seat!"

"MOMMY!" squealed the boy, throwing himself at his mother in a panicked attempt to get away from Lucius. The woman appeared to be speechless with outrage as she gathered her child to her chest. The wizard gave her a satisfied smirk and a small mock bow. "Madam," he purred. "You will find your son much easier to control now."

"Did you just do _legilimency _on that kid?" Eleanor hissed at Lucius as he settled back down in his seat. Behind him the boy was whimpering as quietly as possible now while his shocked mother was hushing him. "Are you crazy doing magic? You know we can't…"

As an answer he laid his hand across hers and squeezed it hard enough to get her attention. "I resolved this with the least possible degree of magical intervention. A few more minutes of this and I would have blown up the damn muggle brat. That would have really gotten everyone's attention. At least we have some peace and quiet now. So settle down, Eleanor. There's no harm done."

The witch shook her head and wondered briefly about Draco's upbringing. She was surprised how well adjusted the younger Malfoy appeared most of the time. Lucius certainly had a unique way with children.

The thought of the plane ride still ahead of them did not cheer her up. The next obstacle would be the availability of flights. She hoped that they would be able to buy tickets at the airport and that they would not have to wait too long for their departure. How would Lucius take to flying without a broom, she wondered. At least wizards' quiddich practice in school meant they typically didn't get airsick.

Fortunately their luck held out. A bored employee at the British Airways counter in Terminal 1 sold them two tickets to Cologne airport for a flight that left at half past three in the afternoon. To her surprise she then managed to interest Lucius in another muggle paper which she bought for him from one of the news stands and they settled into a quiet corner of a small pub on the mezzanine level of the terminal building for a few drinks and some food to wait.

The flight also went off without a hitch, despite the fact that Lucius seemed unhappy about being jammed yet again into a small seat in a coach like interior. "Are you sure muggles didn't steal some magic to pull this off," he whispered to her as the plane left the ground. "How can such a hulk of metal fly without any spells?"

But he seemed to take to flying quite well, and she noticed that their sleepless night finally caught up with him. By the time the plane had reached cruising altitude his body leaned against her shoulder and he was fast asleep. She looked out of the window at the sun-drenched tops of the clouds planning ahead for their train-ride from the airport to the town center in Cologne and hoping yet again that her theory on the whereabouts of the Mirror of Battle was right.

She couldn't help thinking about Draco, remembering his grudging acknowledgement of her feelings for his father when she had met with him during Lucius' time in Azkaban. She recalled him waving at her, laughing and shouting instructions when he had taught her how to handle her new Firebolt, and she saw him clearly before her as he had summoned her to the handfasting only a day ago. He had wished her good luck, and he had looked like he'd meant it.

Eleanor sighed and tried to relax against her sleeping husband. The real challenge, the real battle was still ahead of them, and never had she felt less assured of victory.


	17. Bed and Breakfast

**Bed and Breakfast**

_"Du kannst dich zwar den ganzen Tag ärgern, aber du musst es nicht. - You can be annoyed at things all day long, but nobody forces you to." (German proverb)_

They stood on the crowded pavement before the main railway station, rush-hour commuters pressing past them and jostling them on occasion. She head Lucius give a suppressed hiss as a man in a business suit shouldered him aside. Eleanor was sure that she had pushed her husband almost to breaking point. Gently she touched him. "Come, just one more stage to the journey and we're there. I promise."

He glared at her out of pale eyes and they stepped forward into a cool dim evening. Heavy, insistent rain fell out of deep-hanging grey clouds and slicked the pavement, reflecting bright car-lights and colorful neon signs. Off to their side loomed the large, dark shadow of Cologne Cathedral with its bizarre skyline of gothic spires. Their desperate mission seemed strangely unreal in the face of this busy scene within the muggle world. She still hadn't lost her feeling of hollowness and weightlessness that had haunted her since the catastrophe only a day ago.

Eleanor pulled a small folded umbrella from her suitcase and opened it over both of them. Lucius had at least retained enough temper to take it from her and to offer her his arm so they both fit under the protection of the black cloth. The witch steered them towards the taxi stands where a long row of pale cream Mercedes cars were parked waiting for passengers. A man stepped forward, took their bags from them to put them in the trunk of his car and opened the back door of the cab for them.

Lucius settled in with a grunt and looked around. "Muggle taxis! These cars are even smaller than the ones in London," he said, and then with a little appreciative nod. "But at least they open the doors for you here. Obviously someone has taught them better manners."

"Wo soll's hingehen?" asked the driver.

"Kastellstiege 35, bitte," said Eleanor.

The man moved them out of the queue of waiting cars, and soon they threaded their way through the busy evening traffic, until they came to the older part of town. The cab rumbled over uneven cobblestones and finally stopped in front of a narrow tall half-timbered house with lit windows and a large iron-worked sign that said "Zur Kaiserin Agrippina".

The driver opened the doors for them and unloaded the bags. It was still raining, and Lucius held the umbrella as Eleanor paid for the trip.

"What is this place?" asked the blond wizard as the taxi took off down the street.

"A pub and guest house. It's run by muggles; but it's right beside the entrance to the wizarding part of Cologne. I thought we could get a room and keep our stuff there. We can either hide out here for a few days, or make a quick exit if we are successful tonight."

"More muggles," sighed Lucius. "And I guess no one is here to help us with our baggage, either."

Eleanor lifted her suitcase. "You guessed right, dear. Let's get checked in." Lucius followed, and she thought she heard him grumble something about this being the worst imaginable honeymoon.

He watched his wife negotiate for a few minutes with a florid, middle-aged woman in a hideous red muggle suit, handing over a small plastic card and writing down all sorts of information with an odd metal stick that didn't even need dipping in ink, until she finally received a key.

They made their way down a dark hallway, listening to the raucous noise of the patrons in the pub. Lucius almost gagged on the stench of overcooked vegetables, stale smoke and old beer. No one but muggles could be expected to pay to put up with anything like this.

Eleanor turned a sharp corner and led their way up a squeaky wooden staircase. Lucius assumed she had either been here before or had received instructions from the muggle woman in red. He craned his neck to look at the old darkened portraits that stared down at them from the walls, but was disappointed when none of the inhabitants of the picture frames so much as blinked or raised a hand in greeting. It seemed muggle portraits were as rude as their subjects themselves.

Finally they reached a second carpeted hallway with old battered-looking doors on both sides. With the heavy wood beams that held up the ceiling and the dark oak paneling on the walls Lucius felt the place was sufficiently ancient looking to have a bit of a wizarding feel about it. The guest rooms above the _Leaky Cauldron_ didn't seem much dissimilar, as he recalled from a series of youthful indiscretions.

"Number 17," said Eleanor suddenly and put the key in the lock. She pushed open the door with a squeak of its hinges, flicked on the light and led the way into a spacious, square room with three tall, narrow windows that was dominated by a broad, antique four-poster bed.

Lucius dropped his suitcase at the foot of the bed and sat down on the mattress with a sigh. Eleanor poked her head around the bathroom, which, fortunately, was a more modern affair with a decent tub and shower. She took off and hung up her coat and then sat next to her husband. "How are you?" she asked.

He pulled off his gloves and opened the buttons of his overcoat. "Tired," he sighed. "Aggravated." He paused. "Worried to death." He grimaced and turned his head to face her. "I'm sorry this is to be our honeymoon."

She pulled herself together for a smile. "Getting back Draco is all that matters right now. We'll find the mirror. We'll rescue your son, and we'll fight your former master. Then we'll have all the time in the world for a proper honeymoon."

He nodded, obviously grateful for her reassurance. He had talked little about Draco, but she knew him well enough to realize that he was deeply cut by the abduction of his son. She wished she could do or say anything to reassure him, but he knew Voldemort better than her, and she was sure that Lucius' anxiety was well founded.

She ruthlessly tamped down on any thoughts about how the Dark Lord might decide to torture the younger Malfoy, now that his father was out of his reach. She hoped their discipline in avoiding magic had thrown off any Death Eater spies and bought them the time they needed for a surprise attack.

She felt she had to lighten the mood. "In the meantime," she suggested with a playful leer, "if I can take your mind off things for a little while, I'd be more than glad to oblige. We're still too early to start. Midnight should be fine for our break-in, and there are a few hours to go."

He lifted his hand to push a few coppery strands out of her face, feeling the cool touch of raindrops that still clung to her hair. "Making up for our wedding night, eh?" he teased her. "I could have wished for more – appropriate – surroundings. But I guess it is in keeping with our courtship that I get to properly enjoy my wife in a muggle guest house."

An idea struck him. "Is this place mugglish enough to have a shower?" he asked, and Eleanor had to smile at the small glint of expectation that showed in his grey eyes.

"Of course," she purred, recalling a previous encounter in a shower stall that had proved rather memorable.

She held out her hand, leading him to the bathroom and switched on the lights with a flourish. Her husband growled appreciatively. "Well, this might prove to be a worth-while place to stay after all."

He gave her butt a playful and lascivious broad-handed slap and squeeze and moved back into the bedroom. With a grin she opened the stall and pre-warmed the water, and when she turned back she looked at Lucius sans clothes. He had even pulled the leather fastening from his hair and his pale blond strands now framed his proud leonine face.

The wizard gave a self-satisfied smirk as his wife's eyes traveled up and down his body and her lips curved in a contented smile. He was already half aroused at the thought of his plans for her and watched her as she ran her hands over his collar bones, down to his hardening nipples, over his ribs and in a "V" across his stomach until the tips of her fingers lightly trailed the silky skin that sheathed his incipient erection.

He sighed, closing his eyes for a moment and then gallantly helped her out of her severe black business suit and moss green top. She shrugged out of her bra and panties, kicked her shoes into a corner and then sat down with a gasp on the cold rim of the bath tub as Lucius insisted on kneeling before her and slowly and sensuously rolling down her stockings for her.

He gently cupped her toes in his warm hands and pressed down on the spot he knew so well on the underside of her foot, just between the toes and the arch. She mewed in helpless appreciation and heard a chuckle from him.

"Your poor, poor, feet, my dear! Just because we could not use lightness spells on your baggage. There, does this feel better?" His nails raked the sensitive skin under her feet, and she exploded in terrified laughter, but his left now captured her foot in a vise-like grip, while the pads of the fingers of his right massaged her insistently.

With the torture of his lighter, teasing touch gone, she abandoned herself to his care, humming her contentment as he treated her other foot to his attentions. The bathroom was slowly steaming up from the heated water, and finally Lucius released her feet and placed them softly back on the floor.

"So here we are for our treat of the evening!" He opened the glass door with a flourish and motioned for Eleanor to move into the jets. His hands trailed over her hips as he followed her, and in the falling water he turned her and kissed her deeply. Wetness slicked down their hair and ran over their faces. She closed her eyes as his fingers dug deeply into her tensed, travel-worn muscles and relaxed her, working his way down her spine from her neck to her hips. His lips never left her mouth.

When she finally felt as if she was going to collapse in a quivering, boneless heap of flesh, she gently lifted his hands from her body and made him place them against the tiles and the glass stall to grant her access to him. For a moment she looked at the faint outline of the dark mark, still safely hidden under the waxy salve Severus had given them. Then she dismissed any thought of their adversary. She placed a kiss on Lucius' mouth, ducked underneath his outstretched left arm and molded herself to his back before slicking her fingers with soap and returning the favor. She heard him hum happily under her care and smiled.

Slowly she felt the knots in his muscles soften and took a deep breath. "My place or yours?" she asked the age-old question, only to get a blank stare from her husband and realizing it was obviously a muggle joke. "Um, the bed or the shower," she retracted.

Lucius turned towards her and considered. "This is our attempt at a proper wedding-night," he declared. "Tradition demands the bed."

She raised an eyebrow. "Tradition it is," she nodded solemnly and turned off the water, grabbing two towels off the rail as she opened the door.

They both made a half-hearted attempt to dry each other, but found that kissing their water-slicked skin proved much more pleasurable. She teased his lips with her mouth, and sloppily ran the towel down his back, while he pretended to dab at her flanks with his terry cloth. He finally growled in frustration. "Come on, back to bed!"

They made their way to the bedroom, still half-wet, the hotel towels falling carelessly to their sides as their hands sought each other's bodies. Lucius moved forward in imitation of a not-so-fit-for-society dance, pushing her back as he kissed her greedily until her knees hit the mattress. She stopped in surprise while he pressed on, but then she gripped his shoulders and leaned back with some force taking him with her.

A moment later they had tumbled onto the bed in a twisted heap of flailing arms and legs. She broke their kiss to laugh, but he merely growled at the interruption and asserted his strength to move them both further towards the middle of the mattress and to recapture her lips in a relentless kiss.

Her amusement at catching him off-guard evaporated quickly as desire once more took control of her. She felt his weigh press down on her, the insistence of his mouth and tongue, the rough grasp of his hands, and knew she was already growing slick with lust. There was no time for niceties.

"Lucius, please…" she gasped when he released her for a moment. He lifted his head, and for a moment his stormy grey eyes focused on her. She paused, noticing how the golden light from the lamp on the nightstand caught in his water-soaked tresses.

He watched her with a preternatural intensity that gave her the shivers. "Now," he said. It was not a question.

"Now," she nodded. A moment later she felt his knees nudge her thighs apart. She threw back her head and let out a muffled cry as he pushed inside her in one swift, forceful movement that bordered on the painful. He did not give her time to adjust as he immediately withdrew almost his entire length and thrust forwards again. She clawed at his back and was rewarded with a savage bite to her shoulder.

His next thrust smashed the headboard into the wall with a sound like a pistol shot, but they both were too far gone to care. He freed one hand by supporting his chest on her body and snaked his fingers down underneath his stomach to capture her clit. His thumb danced across her tender flesh and at his next push she arched her body towards him with a cry.

Lucius proved relentless, driving her to climax mercilessly and continuing his savage assault while she came, screaming by now. Even then, when he would normally have allowed her some respite, he continued without pause, until she felt she could not bear it any more. Her sensitized flesh protested at his attack, but she was past coherent talk and to her utter surprise she tensed for yet another release.

As she climaxed again she felt him shudder, but the steely tension of his muscles under her hands told him that he held on with perfect self discipline, not slowing, but not allowing himself his release either. His teeth clenched for a moment, before he devoured her mouth once again, drinking down her gasps and moans.

She reached her peak once more, her spasms wracking her body and proving as pleasurable as they felt painful in their forced intensity. She merely managed a choke as he now bore down on her, his weight crushing the breath out of her, his thrusts hitting her fast and furious, and a few moments later he came, curving back as he brought both hands down on the mattress to push himself away from her. His cock reached the apex of his thrust, his head arched back until she saw the tendons of his neck stick out with painful definition, and then he shouted out in his release.

Catching her breath she placed her hands over his ribs that expanded with a powerful attempt to fill his lungs, and then he slowly stilled within her, his head bowed down, and for a moment deep green eyes held grey as he regarded her. She watched his nostrils flare at the sight of her, and then he sank back into her, burying his face at her neck. His tongue laved the skin his teeth had bruised before, and then he didn't move at all.

Where he lay on her chest she could feel the thunderous beat of his heart calming slowly. Water and sweat cooled on his skin as she gently ran her hands over his back. She lightly raked her nails over his ass and was rewarded with a soft contented hum that vibrated against her. She turned her face towards him and kissed his neck through the wetness of his hair.

For the first time since the desperate hue and cry about Draco's abduction she felt whole again, felt grounded, earthbound, solid. She clasped him tightly, clenching her lids over eyes that threatened to fill with tears. "We will win," she whispered to him, willing to believe her words as she spoke them. "We will be a family again. We will prevail. We are Malfoy." She felt his arms tighten around her at her words. Then darkness took her.


	18. Valeriusgasse 11

**Valeriusgasse 11 **

_"The lintel low enough to keep out pomp and pride; the threshold high enough to turn deceit aside; the doorband strong enough from evil to defend; this door will open at a touch __to welcome every friend." (Inscription above the doorway of a house)_

The rain had stopped when Lucius and Eleanor quietly left the small hotel in the heart of Cologne. They both wore plain black clothes and quiet flat shoes that wouldn't draw any undue attention either among muggles or wizards and would largely hide their progress in the dark. Eleanor led them down a narrow cobble-stoned side-street that terminated in a dead end.

As they stood before a brick-wall that blocked their progress the red-haired witch swallowed nervously as she tried to remember the gestures that would open the secret gateway to the wizarding part of town. It had been many years since she had visited her old family home.

"Have you ever been here before?" she asked Lucius. Her husband shook his head.

"This will feel weird, then," Eleanor explained. "Wizarding Cologne is not hidden in the same way most magical places are. This area of town has been offset from the muggle world by about six sevenths of a second, so it occupies the same space as the ordinary city, but the inhabitants of the two places are unaware of each other – at least most of the time. Some houses around here do have a reputation among muggles for being haunted, though. Passing through will shift you from one time phase into the other.Occasionally people have a bad reaction to that, so prepare to feel a little queasy."

Lucius raised an eyebrow at her, and then they walked through the portal. There was a brief sensation of being wrenched sideways, then down, and she was grateful for his hands that steadied her as they took their first steps forward.

Nothing seemed to have changed. It was still dark and cool and they could hear the remnants of the earlier rain gurgling down drain-spouts and gutters. However, light and smell had shifted imperceptibly. The orange glow of streetlights was muted to the pale green of gas lights and the big-city scent of car exhaust was replaced by the smoke of wood and coal fires and the faint odor of incense.

Tall, three-story houses built from carved and painted timber rose around them, each level built slightly wider than the one below it, so the buildings seemed to lean in on them and almost blocked out the faint grey of the night sky. Turrets and gables sprouted from their slanting steep roofs and the warm light of oil lamps and torches shimmered through a multitude of small lead-glass windows.

Eleanor pulled the hood from her coat forward over her head. "Down this street here, past the fountain in the main square, and then the second to the right," she said quietly. "And remember, Cologne is not as civilized as Diagon Alley in London."

She heard a soft chortle next to her. "More like Knockturn Alley, eh?"

They stayed in the shadows of the tall buildings and as they neared the square the streets became a bit busier. They encountered a large group of goblins singing some raucous song as they walked and then stood before a stone gateway between two tall houses that contained an apothecary and a tavern respectively. Just then the tavern door opened and someone kicked out a bowtruckle who flew above them in a graceful arc, immediately hooked his fingers into the wood beams of the apothecary and clambered up towards the roof.

"Raus hier! Verschwindet, verdammtes Pack!" shouted someone from the lit interior of the public house and a moment later a wizard followed the unfortunate magical creature, though with less elegance, and landed flat on his backside at their feet. He scrambled back up and shook his fist at the open door intoning something that sounded like a rather fulsome curse before tossing back his tattered robes and stalking off into the dark ahead of them.

"Nice neighborhood," grinned Lucius.

"Well, that's part of the reason why my parents decided to move away. They just felt it wasn't a good place to raise kids," she said and pulled him into the darkness of the archway. They could hear the fountain in the square as they stepped out of the arcades and over it some angry grunting and shouting.

"They're not…" said Lucius staring at her in disbelief.

She shrugged her shoulders: "Well, it's not officially allowed, but bribes will go a long way. You can still make bets on troll-fights here."

Off to the side of the plaza a group of witches and wizards surrounded two rather mangy looking trolls, who were half-heartedly bashing each other with clubs. The crowd was cheering them and egging them on. Their owners kept prodding them with long sticks to make them madder.

allowed her to pull him along by the side of the houses.

"Well, seems folks here are easily amused," he sneered.

Finally Eleanor stopped him and pointed.

"Valeriusgasse. That's the street," she said and looked up at a carved street sign.

They turned right into the narrow cobbled alley and soon stopped in front of an imposing-looking patrician town home, its sides overgrown with vines. Rows of small crown glass windows rose above them. Next to the broad carved double doors a wall plaque with the official stamp of the German Historical Wizarding Society listed the house as the home of the Sartorius family.

The blond wizard looked at her.

"So far so good," he said. "Now how do we get in without magic and without tripping the wards."

She grinned. "Easy: remember the old magical saying 'As above so below.'? Well, sometimes that doesn't hold true. Follow me."

She led him further down the narrow street until they reached a flat iron-worked grille decorated with a pentagram and set into the paving stones. After a furtive look to either side she crouched down and laced her fingers through the metal.

"Help me," she grunted.

He joined her.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Well, one of the things my parents did tell me was how they were getting in and out of the house as teenagers without my grandparents knowing. They were already dating and they found this secret passage that leads from the wine cellar to a tunnel under the street right to this exit. It was part of the old Roman water supply. The access was never warded."

Lucius helped her lift the heavy lid and pull it over to the side. The noise of scraping metal on stone seemed quite loud in the nightly stillness.

"So you are telling me we are going through a sewer to get into your home?" His lips twitched with disgust. "If I'd known…"

She laid a hand on his.

"Exactly, my dear. That's why I didn't go announcing it before I had to. Come on! Oh, and pull the lid shut behind you, please. Don't want some drunk fall in behind us."

She gripped a set of steel rungs set into the brickwork that lined the tunnel and lowered herself down. As her feet touched the ground she pulled a muggle pocket torch from her coat and switched it on. The cone of light reflected off moss and algae on the masonry and showed her Lucius further up.

He released his grip on the footholds and dropped down on the floor beside her.

"At least it's not flooded," he said and looked around. "What in Merlin's name is that light?"

"No magic," she promised him quickly, "Just a muggle invention. It runs on batteries. Here."

She held out the flashlight to him and saw him hesitate before he carefully took it from her, almost as if he expected it to turn in his hand and bite him.

"Hm," he inspected the metal and plastic casing and shone the light up and down the tunnel. "About as powerful as a good _lumos flammipotens_ spell," he murmured. "Inventive little buggers, aren't they? Oh, and don't bore me with how it works, please, dear."

She realized with a small smile he had obviously no intention of returning the light to her.

"I wouldn't dream of it, Lucius," she said and was quite content to follow him as he illuminated a path for them both.

The tunnel ceiling soon lowered and forced them to walk in a slight crouch. Eleanor started counting steps. As they progressed the paved bottom began to fill with some of the recent rain water. The witch sniffed to see if they actually had to worry about some unpleasant surprises, but could not smell anything aside from the faint odor of mold, earth and decaying leaves. Their steps echoed along the damp brickwork and eventually Lucius stopped and looked back at her.

"Crossroads," he said. "Which way do we go?"

"Forty-seven steps," she answered. "We go straight and turn left at the next crossing. That's the branch-off to our house."

The blond wizard turned back, and just as she was about to follow him, she felt something tug quite insistently at the bottom of her trousers. She looked down expecting to have snagged on a submerged branch, but almost jumped back with a squeak of dismay when she saw a small pale hand bunched in the fabric. Soon several more hands had joined the first and the pull now became quite strong.

"Shit," she hollered, starting to kick. "We've got us a troop of heinzelmännchen down here."

Lucius' flashlight returned.

"Heinzel-what!" he called back to her and now they both saw a bunch of about twenty or thirty small man-like creatures pile out of the cross-tunnel and swarm up their legs. Their skin had the white sickly hue of fish-bellies, their eyes seemed huge and black and they cowered briefly and closed their paper-thin white lids when the light hit them directly.

Eleanor grabbed one that had clambered up all the way to her waist and threw him back in the water. His bony body seemed almost weightless, but his sharp nails left a long welt along the back of her hand as he clung on to her. He hissed when she finally managed to shake him off and immediately got up again to join the others.

"Don't let them get to your face," she gasped. "They'll try and scratch your eyes out."

She heard a sickening crack like someone breaking apart a chicken carcass and suspected that Lucius had decided on a more permanent solution to get rid of their attackers. The flashlight was now bouncing wildly.

"Fuck!" hollered the wizard. "Damn vermin! Get off there! Ouch!"

She knew Lucius well enough to be aware that he rarely stooped to such blatant use of profanity. He obviously was as much in trouble as her.

A moment later she had to concentrate on herself again as one of the sneaky imp-like creatures had clambered up her back and was now methodically pulling her hair out. She reached behind her, felt the clamp of sharp little teeth on her forefinger and flung another heinzelmännchen off her. The movement almost threw her off balance as several others of their attackers tugged at her leg at the same time nearly bringing her down.

"Don't let them trip you!" she shouted advice to her husband.

"No kidding," came the snarled reply and a tiny, broken, limp body landed at her feet with a splash. "No wonder no one ever warded the tunnel. – Let go! – These things are worse than any curse. – Got you!"

Seconds later the flashlight shook wildly once more and hit the water. Though the light didn't fail, it now shone through layers of slimy green algae and filled the tunnel with a sickly subterranean glow. The loss of bright, direct illumination seemed to encourage their attackers, more of which came out of the darkness to join the fight, and Eleanor began to feel cold fear grip her. They might not be able to defend themselves against all of them.

She felt Lucius' hand on her arm as he held himself steady against her and plucked another heinzelmännchen off her shoulder. She watched him snap the creature's spine and discard the small corpse. His face bore the scratch-marks of several of the imps' vicious claws.

"Lucius, I…" she began and then cried out in dismay as she slipped on a submerged rock.

For a moment she thought she might be able to regain her balance, but the pull of their attackers was too strong. Arms flailing she went down and immediately the small pale bodies swarmed all over her, tiny mouths snarling into her face. She squeezed her eyes shut and screamed.

"_Immobilis_," a loud voice roared above her, and immediately her torment stopped.

Strong hands gripped her arms and she felt herself lifted up.

Lucius shook her. "Eleanor, are you all right?"

At his worried, insistent tone she opened her eyes.

"Yes, yes, I'm all right. Thank you." She took a deep breath, seeing heinzelmännchen all around her frozen in various contorted poses like a grotesque three-dimensional still picture. "But you performed magic! You spoke a spell," she cried in dismay.

He shook his head at her.

"Did you honestly think I'd stand by and watch this vermin rip you to pieces?"

She shivered in her waterlogged clothes.

"But Draco, if Voldemort…"

"I'll not buy one life at the price of another," he growled. "And I sure wasn't going to die in a sewer, like some rat, not even in an ancient Roman sewer."

He bent down and retrieved the flashlight.

"So what was this all about?" He kicked one of the frozen creatures for emphasis. "Did your parents conveniently forget to mention this particular infestation?"

She sighed, pushing dripping hair out of her face.

"Heinzelmännchen are loosely related to house elves and imps, but are only common in the area of Cologne and the Rhine valley. They attach themselves to wizarding houses and sometimes even old muggle residences guarding the place and voluntarily helping the inhabitants, but they cannot be compelled like house elves. They remain wild like imps and will gang up on intruders. Best way I can figure it is that they left father and mother alone because they lived in the house these guys were protecting. Us they regarded as enemies."

"Hindsight, eh?" he taunted her, but when she drew herself up to protest she saw a grim smile curve his mouth.

His pale proud face looked scratched and bloodied and his blond hair stuck out in a scraggly mess. He slapped her on the back.

"Come on," he said. "Let's get this mirror and let's get out of here before the spell wears off."

They sloshed on until they came to another intersection and turned left into a narrow, tall tunnel that curved steeply upwards ending in a round vertical shaft with a spiral brick staircase. At the top Eleanor took the flashlight from Lucius as he pushed upwards against a wooden trapdoor that opened on old creaking bronze hinges.

They climbed out and stood in a large vaulted cellar. Pillars supported gothic brick arches, and between them wooden struts held tall oak barrels of wine. Bats hung from the ceiling, chirped to each other and blinked sleepily into the sudden light.

"This way," said Eleanor and pointed them to the exit of the wine cellar.

They opened an iron mounted door and walked along a narrow corridor that led to yet another spiral staircase.

"We are now in the round tower at the side of the house that you could see from the street," the witch explained. "The rest of the house is made of timber frames stuffed with plastered whitewashed wattle, but the tower is stone and could be held against attackers."

She felt his hand on her back.

"Are you reverting back to being an art historian?" he taunted her, but she felt the warmth of humor in his voice. "Don't worry about giving me the museum tour, my dear. Where's the wardrobe from the photo that holds the mirror?"

"Second floor," she said, tacitly acknowledging that he had a point.

She led the way back out of the tower and down another corridor. Many of the doors that led off it were propped open with red velvet cords strung across the doorways to allow visitors to the museum a glimpse inside the rooms. The dancing cone of the pocket torch illuminated bedrooms and studies, a library and a laboratory.

"Here, that's the governess's bedroom. This is where my grandmother slept," she said and unhooked the cord that barred their entry.

The oak planks of the floor creaked softly as they moved inside a cozy wood-paneled room with a low ceiling.

"Wait," said Eleanor, stepped up to the row of small windows on the far wall and quickly closed the heavy, dark blue velvet curtains. "Now they can't see the light from the street. Here's the wardrobe."

She opened the hinged double doors of a slightly lopsided cupboard and Lucius joined her to illuminate the interior.

"Yessss!" she called out in triumph. "There it is!"

She lifted herself up on tiptoe and stretched to reach for an item Lucius could not see. Moments later as her hands closed around it the air seemed to shimmer briefly and he now realized she held a brown round cardboard box with a golden symbol of an Egyptian eye painted on it.

He followed her as she walked over to a low davenport and set the box down.

"Let's take a peek," she said and carefully lifted the top off the container.

Lucius looked over her shoulder and could not recall ever having seen such total blackness.

"Gods!" he heard her exclaim softly.

It seemed to her she had just lifted the lid off outer space, an outer space of absolute emptiness and lack of light. This universe didn't even contain stars, like the world at the end of all time when entropy would have finally extinguished the last spark of light and warmth.

She knew the box was merely about ten inches high, the concave mirror no more than fifteen to twenty inches across with an inner curvature of perhaps five inches, yet the depths into which she looked seemed to stretch into eternity. The mirror even sucked the light out of the atmosphere around them. Everything around her seemed suddenly pale and dim and almost insubstantial.

Something pulled at her mind now, tried to draw her in.

"Who are you? Declare your will," boomed a vast cold voice in the depths of her thoughts.

She leaned forward and almost gave in, almost touched the glass, when she felt Lucius' hand on her shoulder.

"Eleanor? What's wrong?"

She jerked back with an effort of will.

"Merlin, this thing is the most powerful magical artifact I have ever seen. Did you not feel it? That mirror is almost sentient, but in a completely inhuman way," she said in awe. "Wermuth was an unsurpassed master of his craft."

She turned to her husband and looked into his keen, grey eyes that regarded her gravely.

"It's just a mirror," he said, but his glance searched for an explanation.

She compressed her lips. How could she explain the strange and frightening connection she had begun to feel?

"If anything can, this will kick Voldemort's pants," she promised him with conviction.

He nodded slowly.

"It did something to you just then. I think…" his voice trailed off and he suddenly clamped his hand over his left forearm with a hiss.

"Lucius!"

His nostrils flared.

"The mark. I can feel it. He is trying to reach me!"

She felt panic rise in her.

"I can declare the mirror for defense. We can block him…"

"No, wait," he interrupted her and pulled back his sleeve.

She peered at the design of the skull and serpent on his skin.

"See, it's not getting black under the shielding salve. He can't get through."

She raked her fingers through her wet hair.

"He sensed the magic in the tunnel, though. He's searching," she sighed.

He nodded grimly.

"Yes, and the longer we delay the stronger his suspicion will get, and the greater the danger to Draco. Let's pack up the mirror and get back home."


	19. The Mirror of Battle

**The Mirror of Battle**

_"In motion be like water…, at rest like a mirror. Resound like the echo. Be subtle, as though non-existent." (Lao Tse: Tao-Te-King)_

Lucius Malfoy stretched his long legs under the old heavy wood table and leaned back in his chair. To his side an open fire crackled beneath a high, carved mantle. He carefully lifted a pint glass filled to the top with amber liquid to his lips and took a tentative sip.

His features briefly contorted in distaste.

"Muggle beer," he murmured and shook his head at his companion.

Thin red scratches crisscrossed his face and gained him surreptitious glances from some of the other patrons at _Ye Olde Cheshire Cheese_ pub in London.

At this time on a late November afternoon the pub was busy with Fleet Street journalists, lawyers and barristers from the Old Bailey and a few tourists with guide books who read about the great fire of London that had destroyed the previous tavern in 1666.

"By Azrael, I wish Severus would hurry up, and we'll get this over with," the blond wizard sighed and took another drink of his beer.

Opposite him sat a tall, re-haired woman in a grey tailored suede leather blouse and black denims. Her face and neck showed similar injuries to his and she kept a close watch on a round cardboard box she had placed on the table in front of her.

"He'll come," she reassured him. "The owl just needs some time to get to Hogwarts."

She stretched and looked around.

"We should order something to eat while we wait. That sandwich on the plane was a joke, and this place is famous for its steak and kidney pudding," she coaxed him

Lucius shot her a glance out of pale grey eyes.

"Merlin's balls, you have nerves! We may well be facing the Dark Lord in a few hours, and here you are thinking about steak and kidney pudding!"

Eleanor shrugged her shoulders.

"Even more reason to get a decent meal under your belt. You'll need your strength; plus a pint of IPA on an empty stomach is not going to do you any good when it comes to dueling skills. Let me go and order something."

The wizard watched her get up and walk over to the bar where she was soon talking to a white-shirted muggle wearing a long black apron. He rolled his head back on his shoulders and closed his eyes. Every one of his bones was aching with exhaustion.

After the retrieval of the mirror they had had no problem in leaving the old Sartorius residence through the underground passageway. The strange imp-like creatures that had attacked them had still been immobilized. He hoped the spell would hold until the whole lot of them died of starvation.

No one had challenged them as they made their way back to the muggle guest house where he insisted Eleanor spent a good half hour soaking in a steaming hot bath before he had allowed her back into bed. She had been blue in the face and shivering violently in her sopping wet clothes. Eventually his wife had persuaded him to join her and his lips curved in amusement at the memory. For two people the bath tub had been rather cramped and had made for very intimate contact.

They had both decided that while the injuries they had sustained at the hands of the heinzelmännchen were conspicuous they would not risk _empathicura_ to get rid of them. They had already pushed their luck with his immobilization spell. Tired and drained they had eventually managed to get a few hours sleep.

In the morning they had faced their long trip back: taxi, train, plane; and then, at the muggle airport in London Eleanor had convinced him to accept Severus' offer of help.

"He has proved where his loyalties lie," she had told him. "If he was on Voldemort's side, the Dark Lord would have found you when we got the mirror. He would have had his Death Eaters apparate and take the weapon from us. Instead Severus' shielding salve protected you."

So they had sent a Wizarding Owl Mail owl with an anonymous message to Hogwarts and taken muggle transportation into central London to avoid detection by Death Eaters, who would undoubtedly watch Malfoy Manor.

The rustle of clothes startled him out of his reverie and as he opened his eyes Eleanor was sliding back onto the dark wood bench behind the table.

"Two puddings coming up," she promised him, and then he saw her eyes go wide in surprise.

He craned his neck and followed her glance. An elderly man had just entered the bar, accompanied by a woman dressed in green and brown plaid. His appearance was striking enough to attract surprised attention from the muggle patrons. A white beard covered his chest and reached down to his belt. White long hair hung around his shoulders, and despite the fact that he wore a rather smartly-cut brown coat and a deerstalker hat, he had absolutely nothing of a muggle about him.

Behind him followed a group of people who seemed only marginally less conspicuous. There was a red-haired, buxom woman in a baggy, knitted dress and overcoat made from wool that was dyed in all colors of the rainbow. She had her arm laid around the waist of a red-haired man in a shabby grey cloak and formless felt hat. Both scowled at the sight of the blond wizard sitting at the table ahead of them. There was also a young woman with bubblegum pink hair, who grinned at him lopsidedly, and a horribly disfigured man with a peg-leg, a scarred face and an eye-patch, and finally Severus Snape himself in a long black coat he had buttoned up to his chin. The potions master looked rather grim.

Lucius sat up straight, glaring at the visitors, his lips curling in distaste and anger. Severus had actually dragged half the bloody Order of the Phoenix along with him to London. Before he could say something, the woman with pink hair had stepped over to the table, pulled out a chair and sat down without an invitation. She tilted her head and looked him over.

"Oh, first marriage spat, uncle?" she teased him. "You look pretty scratched up. Handfasted yourself to quite a spirited witch, eh? And muggle clothes… tsk, tsk… Developed a taste for slumming it?"

"Tonks," he hissed. "How dare you?"

She shrugged her shoulders.

"Couldn't care less, uncle," she said dismissively. "But I heard my cousin is in trouble. Thought I could help."

"Mr. Malfoy," interrupted the white-haired man. "May we sit down? I believe we have important matters to discuss."

Lucius' jaws worked, but finally he answered.

"Professor Dumbledore. I cannot say I am pleased to see you, and I am sure the dislike is mutual, but as you are all already here, we may as well talk."

He cast a quick look over at Eleanor and saw her exhale in relief. She scooted over on the bench to make space for the red-haired couple and quietly hid the mirror box next to her under her coat.

Muggles cast curious glances at them, but unconsciously created a space for the group as Mr. and Mrs. Weasley slipped onto the bench, Snape pulled up chairs for Professors Dumbledore and McGonagal and Auror Moody briefly lifted his eye patch to revel a huge pale blue eye for a few seconds and then found himself a chair as well.

Tonks got up again and laid a hand along Snape's arm, who was still standing.

"Let's get some drinks and food, Severus," she suggested.

The witch and the wizard walked over to the bar.

Dumbledore leaned forward and steepled his hands before him.

"Severus has told me what happened at your handfasting the day before yesterday: Voldemort has kidnapped Draco and is forcing you to give him the Mirror of Battle."

The headmaster caught Moody's eye for a moment and then glanced over to Eleanor.

"I see," he said. "You have retrieved the mirror, and you have brought it with you."

The red-haired witch laid her hand protectively over her coat.

"How do you know?" she asked.

Dumbledore gave her a gentle smile.

"Remind me to tell you about Alastor's remarkable abilities one of these days," he said.

"Well," she said defensively. "We haven't brought the mirror to hand it over to Voldemort. He will kill Draco and us anyway, whether he gets Wermuth's creation or not. We have got the mirror to fight him."

The headmaster nodded.

"Ah, yes, fighting. After all, it is called the Mirror of Battle, is it not? So let me ask you: what is more important to you: to defeat Voldemort, or to rescue Draco?"

Lucius interrupted them, his voice low and harsh.

"There is no 'either – or'. There is no choice! We will get my son back and we will fight and be avenged upon the Dark Lord. He attacked us, he had me tortured and poisoned, he nearly got my wife raped and killed, he tried to murder my son and now holds him prisoner. He has made our lives a living hell since my arrest. He will be made to pay.

If you want to help us: if you want to throw this ragtag of mudbloods and muggle-lovers or your wonder-weapon of the boy-who-lived at him, that's your privilege, but we will do this with you or without you. And we don't need your help. We certainly don't need you to interfere."

He leaned forward with a sneer.

"After all, you've always had others do your bidding, haven't you? You are using your own students to fight your battles, your 'Dumbledore's Army' led by that Potter boy, who has been your pawn for years. Why not let the Malfoys do your dirty work for once? What's the loss? None of you would shed one tear if we got ourselves killed. Am I right?"

At that moment Snape and Tonks returned with glasses of beer for everyone. Tonks lifted an exaggerated eyebrow.

"Och, this is tense," she grinned. "You can almost cut the air with an athame. Did we miss something?"

Lucius fell back into his seat.

"Tell us what you want and leave us alone," he said tiredly. "We don't have time for this."

Dumbledore took a deep draught of his beer and wiped the foam off his beard with the back of his hand.

"Lucius, your son is in danger. Shouldn't that be all that matters? I am here, because one of my students got abducted while under the care of one of my teachers. I will do anything in my power to get him back unharmed."

He smiled.

"I will even work with you. Even the Weasleys will work with you, despite what you did to their daughter Ginny – As long as our focus is the same: rescuing Draco. So I'll ask you again, both of you. What is your goal: rescue or revenge?"

Lucius answer fell just short of a snarl.

"I want my son back alive, old man."

The headmaster rubbed his hands.

"Splendid!" he announced happily. "Severus, I believe you have some insights on the matter, have you not?"

The potions master shook his limp black hair out of his face and curled his lips in a brief display of displeasure.

"We've had a gathering last night. The Dark Lord thought he had picked up some spellwork out of Cologne in Germany, but believed he had been mistaken when he could not activate Lucius' mark. He was extremely angry. I saw Draco during that time. He is in bad shape, but he is still alive."

The blond wizard sat upright with a jolt.

"You saw him! What do you mean he is in bad shape?"

Snape sighed.

"He hadn't been given any food or drink it seemed and he looked like he was suffering from the aftereffects of the _cruciatus_. You know: involuntary muscle spasms and cramps. Something must have also injured his arm, because it was roughly bound up in some bandages. I couldn't find out more because the Dark Lord had two renegade Dementors guard him, and none of us were allowed near him."

"Holy Hecate," breathed Molly Weasly. "And he's just a boy. The poor, poor kid. That is just terrible."

Lucius shot her a contemptuous glance out of icy grey eyes.

"He's not just a boy, he's a Malfoy, Mrs. Weasley," he said coldly, then he turned back to Snape.

"Which arm?"

The teacher blinked.

"His left – oh!"

He broke off.

The blond wizard hit the flat of his hand on the table hard enough to make the pint glasses jump.

"He's marked him. He's marked him so he will always know where he is. Damn him!"

Dumbledore's gentle voice interrupted him.

"Where did you meet? Where are they holding Draco, Severus?"

Just then a waiter came with their dishes and the conversation paused. When everyone had their plate in front of them, the old wizard looked at Snape again and lifted a questioning eyebrow.

The potions master inspected the wood-grain of the table. He seemed reluctant to answer. Finally he met the headmaster's eyes.

"I – I do not know, Albus. The Dark Lord called us, and he steered the apparitions through his magic. I did not recognize the place. It was an old house by the looks of it, wizarding, not muggle, but deserted, and it must have stood empty for quite some time. It definitely was not the old Riddle house in Little Hangleton."

"Well, it wouldn't," growled Auror Moody. "He's too shrewd for that. Despite his powers and his Death Eaters we would have rounded him up there and fought him. He must have found himself a new hiding place. And I bet it's unplottable and warded like you wouldn't believe."

Lucius leaned back and exhaled in frustration.

"That's just brilliant," he snarled. "Severus, this was the one thing I had hoped you'd be good for. That's while we owled you. How in Merlin's name can we fight him when we do not know where he is?"

He watched Eleanor rub her hands over her face. She looked as devastated at Snape's confession as he felt. The Weasley woman actually laid her arm around her and patted her on the shoulder.

"There, there, dear. I am sure Albus will think of something."

Dumbledore sat silent for a few moments with the rest of the group watching him in expectation. To his embarrassment even Lucius found that he was holding his breath.

"We can't find him and fight him,' the old wizard finally said. "But we can get you two picked up by him, and we can certainly find you."

"What!" Lucius face had acquired an intense crimson color that even hid his scratch marks. "Are you insane? We've been living like fucking muggles for the last two days and almost got ourselves killed by some demented German imps trying to remain undetected by the Dark Lord! And now you suggest we should give up the one small advantage that we have and hand ourselves over to him voluntarily.

From what Draco has been telling me over the last few years I suspected you were crazy, but now I am sure that you have completely lost your marbles. Why don't we hand over the mirror as well, while we are at it!"

"Shhhh!" admonished him Arthur Weasly. "We are among muggles. Keep it down, will you?"

The elder Malfoy snorted at him, but Dumbledore smiled elatedly as if Lucius had somehow turned into a star pupil of Hogwarts over night.

"But of course," he said. "Naturally you have to take the mirror with you. Otherwise Voldemort would know we are out to deceive him and would kill you and your son right away."

Now even the other Order members looked slightly uncomfortable.

"That is an unexpected move, certainly, but also very risky. If You-know-who gets the mirror under his control before we can get to them, we can kiss the world as we know it goodbye," said Moody gruffly.

"Well, then we must make haste, mustn't we," said Dumbledore cheerfully. "Arthur, Molly and Tonks, would you be so kind and alert the others including the aurors? I believe Mundungus is in Diagon Alley negotiating with the proprietor of the _Magical Menagerie_ about a shipment of kneazles that doesn't belong to him. Remus should be home and hopefully off his aconite potion by now. The full moon has been over for two days now. Let's all meet in my office at Hogwarts in exactly half an hour."

The Weasleys and the young auror got up and left the pub.

Lucius turned to Dumbledore, still glowering. "I do not think I heard myself agree to your idiotic…"

A sharp glace hit him out of blue eyes.

"You want Draco back, don't you?" said the headmaster quietly. "You told me that was more important than to fight. Then I suggest you do agree. Voldemort has nothing but contempt for true loyalty and love. He does not value them and he does not understand them.

If you allow yourselves to be found by him, appearing willing to trade the mirror for the life of your son he will believe that he has won, because your love for Draco made you weak. He will despise you for it, but he will not anticipate a trap. The last thing he will suspect is that we have formed an alliance for the sake of the boy. All you have to do is stall and buy us a little time."

Dumbledore paused, but this time the blond wizard did not speak.

"Eleanor," continued the headmaster after a while. "The mirror: you have looked at it?"

She took a deep breath.

"Yes, Albus," she said slowly. "I have never come across anything remotely like it. Its power is – frightening."

"Have you touched it with your bare hands?"

"It wanted me to, it tried to control me, make me declare its purpose, but Lucius stopped me. I am sure had I touched it, Voldemort would have been aware of it."

"Under no circumstances touch it or use it," warned the old wizard. "Don't let Voldemort have it, either. He will want you to relinquish ownership of it to him – the only way Wermuth's blood-of-kin spell can be broken. But you can't let him have it. Delay him any way you can."

Eleanor nodded feeling hardly surprised that Dumbledore knew so much about the magical mirror. The headmaster looked down as he stuck his hand in his coat pocket and then pulled out a large purple handkerchief, a silvery device that looked a bit like a small sextant and finally a large paper bag that moved conspicuously as he put in on the table.

"Here," he invited them and stuffed the other objects back into his pocket. "Have some chocolate frogs, all of you."

"What would I want with some children's sweets in the name of Merlin?" asked Lucius, looking clearly annoyed.

Snape's slender fingers pulled apart the paper and expertly closed around one of the frogs.

"Dementors, I believe," he said curtly and popped the confection unto his mouth.

"Really Albus," said Professor McGonagal reproachfully. "What if one escapes, among all these muggles…"

She stretched her hand out over the paper bag.

"_Immobilis_," she murmured and as the movements stopped she passed the bag first to Moody and then to the two Malfoys.

"Minerva, where's your sense of fun?" complained Dumbledore, but when everyone had taken their dose of chocolate he tilted his head and looked at Lucius and Eleanor once more.

"I believe it's time to go," he said. "Let's find a place were we are unobserved and where you can disapparate. If I recall correctly the Cheshire Cheese has a cellar bar for special events."

They pushed back their chairs and followed the old wizard through a maze of rooms, down an old wooden staircase and through a door with a sign that read "Bar closed for dinner event 8:00 PM. Independent Investment Bank" into a crypt-like basement.

Dumbledore rooted in his pockets once more and pulled out what appeared to be a small thin gold chain with two round tags hanging off it. He passed one of the tags to Lucius, who inspected it curiously before he stuck it into his trouser pocket.

"A _locus_ device," he finally said. "I see you have come prepared for this plan."

Dumbledore ran his hand over his beard.

"Naturally."

He put the other end of the chain that held the second tag back into his coat and the gold chain stretched until it became so attenuated that it seemed almost invisible.

"Time to announce yourselves," he said.

Lucius stood so he faced Eleanor. She looked scared and determined at the same time, holding the box with the mirror tucked firmly under her arm. For a moment he regarded her. She had no need to accompany him, yet she hadn't even for one moment given the impression that she would not want to stand by him.

"Are you sure?" he asked her quietly and rolled back his left sleeve to expose his bare forearm.

She managed a small smile.

"Just be grateful I've never met the Dark Lord before," she attempted to tease him. "Or I might try to revise my opinion…"

He lowered his head and when he looked at her again, she read gratefulness in his keen grey eyes. Then he pinched the skin over his mark causing Snape's salve to crack and peel. He rubbed at the flakes until the skull and serpent design was fully visible.

Taking a step forward he laced his fingers of his right had through hers.

"How about a spot of magic," he said lightly. "Perhaps something to fix our souvenirs from Cologne?"

Her smile broadened.

"Let's die looking good?" she quipped and touched her left hand to his face. "Oh Lucius, you sense of style will never fail you. I will see you on the other side, my love. – _Empathicura_!"

He had barely heard her words and sensed the effects of her spell when the mark on his arm flared up in painful intensity, his surroundings blurred and he felt himself rushed away.


	20. Paths and Choices

**Paths and Choices**

_"A man cannot be too careful in the choice of his enemies." (Oscar Wilde)_

Eleanor found herself thrown to her hands and knees on cold, unyielding stone. She had barely time to brace herself and clutch at the mirror box to keep her treasure from falling and shattering. A heavy thud and a pained grunt beside her told her that Lucius had had an equally hard landing.

She shivered and looked up into the dim light that surrounded her. She seemed to be in a high, vaulted room that was illuminated by a few wall torches and a wide fire place. A sick smell of decay hung in the air and it seemed very cold, despite the flames.

A thin, keening laugh behind her had her awkwardly move around and she tried to lift herself up. A tall figure, hooded and shrouded in black robes stood before her. The laughter stopped as if cut by a knife.

"Stay down," commanded a sharp, unpleasant voice. "_Accio _wands!"

She felt her magical weapon come lose from her back pocket, but did not resist. They hadn't come to fight, they had come to divert and buy time.

The man slowly approached and as he was a mere step away from her he threw back the hood. She craned her neck to look up into a skeletal, pale face with slitted red eyes that reflected the torch light from their glittering depths. Razor-thin lips drew back to reveal fang-like teeth.

"Ah, the new Mrs. Malfoy," said Lord Voldemort. "You are to be congratulated old friend. You have brought her to me as if you were still my faithful servant, and she has brought me a priceless gift. Why, she must really love you."

"You have me," said Lucius to her side. "And you have the mirror. Let her take Draco and let them go."

The man before them sniggered briefly in mock amusement, then drew himself up and threateningly advanced on the elder Malfoy.

"You dare to come before me and order me? Me? Your master?" he screeched.

"_Crucio_!"

Eleanor watched in horror as her husband slowly doubled over until his forehead touched the stone floor. She saw that he fought hard not to give Voldemort the satisfaction to hear him cry out, but the dark wizard repeated the curse, jabbing his wand at his victim and finally Lucius' resistance broke and he screamed in agony.

The red-haired witch felt every hair on her body stand up, but she advanced on her knees until she could touch Voldemort's feet. She laid her right hand on his shoes and lowered her head in supplication.

"Please, please master, do not hurt him, I beg you," she pleaded. Anything to make him stop.

Against her wildest hopes the Dark Lord lifted his wand and focused his attention back on her. He laughed again. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Lucius collapse on his side with a groan.

"Reduced to begging so soon, my dear?" taunted Voldemort. "Why, I had expected more of a Sartorius. I haven't even started yet."

He turned away from them and clapped.

"To me!" he commanded, and with a soft rustle she saw four masked Death Eaters advance on them.

"Nott, bring me Draco and the Dementors!"

One of the masked and robed figures bowed deeply and left the room. The others circled around them to cut off their escape should they be foolish enough to try and flee.

"You know, Lucius," said Voldemort conversationally. "I have thought much about my revenge over the last two days. And I am faced with quite a dilemma.

First of course I thought it might be amusing to put you under the _imperius_ curse, to see you squirm, watch you try and fight me when I commanded you to kill your son, slowly and painfully. To have you listen to him begging you to spare him, then later to release him to a merciful death. And you could do neither, as you would be unable to resist me.

Then of course I remembered something my old foe Dumbledore told me in early summer this year, that there are worse things than death. At first I would not believe him, but he is a shrewd old wizard. And now I think I might avail myself of the two Dementors who have come to me as their master.

Yes, a Dementor's Kiss for young Draco would be perfect. To see the look on your face when you stare into his empty eyes and he will not even recognize or know you any more. I think I should like that."

With an animal howl of rage Lucius tried to get his quivering body under control for long enough to lunge at his former master, but the Dark Lord easily stepped out of his way and laughed again. Eleanor began to feel heartily sick of the sound. Where were the Order members?

"Ah, and here we are. Very good, Nott, tie him up there, in this chair. Is he secure? Good. Remove the gag."

Eleanor watched the Death Eater place the limp form of the younger Malfoy in a high-backed chair and tie him down with a few charms. She suspected the spells were all that kept him upright. Draco looked half-dead with exhaustion, pain, and whatever his Dementor guards had done to him. Now he tried to lift his head.

"Father!" he groaned. "No! … Father, you shouldn't have come. He told me he'll kill you."

His head sank down again with a dry sob.

The blond wizard managed to sit back on his heels and wiped blood from his mouth.

"Draco," he said hoarsely. "It will be all right. I promise you. Hold on!"

"How touching," sneered Voldemort. "A little family reunion."

He turned his attention back on Eleanor.

"Well, let's get to the matter at hand. Give me the mirror!"

Now it was Eleanor's turn to laugh.

"You as good as told me you are going to kill my husband and my stepson, no matter what. Why in the name of Hecate would I give you their ransom now? If I open this box, then only to take this mirror and use it for myself and fight you to the death."

"Why?" The Dark Lord advanced on her. "Why indeed?"

His voice sounded low and very menacing now.

"How about this…"

He made an odd gesture with his hands and the cold in the room increased until she was shivering with it.

"You refuse me the mirror and I will have one of the Dementors go to work on Lucius. You can watch his soul being devoured very, very slowly. It's actually quite a pretty sight. Oh, and of course we cannot have a _patronus_ spell from a Defense teacher to protect him, can we?"

His wand pointed at her now.

"_Devoro__ potestatem_!" he incanted.

She had already lost her wand to him, and now she felt a strange deadening sensation permeate her, not much different to the one she had sensed in Lucius' cell in Azkaban during the summer.

And then she became aware of the presence of the Dementors. She wanted to curl up into a ball as memories rose unbidden in her mind: the death of her father that had left her mother so heartbroken she had followed him mere weeks after, seeing Lucius in prison a few months ago, then covered in his own blood in the hospital.

"Noooo!" she cried and from a great distance heard a harsh command.

The pressure of despair lifted somewhat and she now saw an emaciated shape in tattered robes that seemed to float weightlessly on the air as if submerged in water. He stooped to kneel over Lucius' prone body. She watched her husband try to fight off imaginary attackers, heard him cry out as if trapped in a nightmare. She caught a few words.

"Father, please! … Don't do this! … No, I beg you, sir!"

Where in the name of Merlin was Dumbledore?

The Dementor crouched lower until his face almost made contact with Lucius'. Silvery light seemed to spin a thin connecting thread between their mouths and Eleanor knew only too well what this meant.

"Please, Lord, stop," she cried. "I'll give you the mirror if you spare him."

She ripped the lid from the box with trembling fingers and revealed the midnight black depths of Wermuth's creation.

"Ah," cried Voldemort, and she saw him stretch out his pale long fingers greedily. His concentration was fully absorbed by his prize.

At the same moment the air around them crackled with the energy bursts of dozens of apparitions.

The Dark Lord recoiled with a bellow of fury, and she slammed the container shut and dove away over to her husband. She could not perform a _patronus_ spell without her wand, but she was desperate enough now to engage the Dementor with her bare hands. At least she felt her familiar powers return to her, now that the Dark Lord's attention was engaged elsewhere.

The icy cold and the despair that surrounded her seemed almost unbearable, and the foul half-rotted creature that feasted on Lucius resisted her with more physical strength than she had anticipated.

And then she saw it in her mind: she was sitting on the cold stones of this old hall holding the body of her husband in her arms, and the empty grey eyes that stared back at her from the depths of his nightmares held no spark of self awareness. He was lost to her and to himself. Lost forever.

She felt her last will to fight drain out of her, when suddenly from a great distance a powerful voice called to her.

"_Expecto__ Patronum_!"

Moments later the pure brilliance of white light enveloped her and as she looked up, squinting in its radiant power she saw a large white phoenix beat the air with outstretched wings. Flashes of illumination streamed from every one of its long, powerful pinions and formed a shield around her and her husband that had the two Dementors draw back in dismay and even the gaunt figure of Voldemort quail under its power.

Seconds later the charm dimmed and dissolved and a pitched battle of Order members, aurors, Death Eaters and Dementors erupted around her.

She heard the Dark Lord's voice, now barely human with fury shout: "_Signa__ nigra_!"

"Black signs," she murmured.

Surely this would call the other Death Eaters to him. And she was entirely defenseless. Her wand was still stuck somewhere in Voldemort's robes, as was Lucius'. She might just about manage the Sartorius feint she had taught herself earlier in the year and which did not require a wand.

Someone almost stumbled over her beating a hasty retreat, and a few seconds later a deflected curse hit the floor to her side and showered her with stone chips.

"Lucius," she shook the motionless form of her husband. "Come on, we need to get out of the line of fire."

He did not respond.

"Oh gods!"

She concentrated hard for some wandless magic.

"_Lumos_!" she cried softly. A faint blue ball of light materialized in her palm and showed her the pale expressionless face of the man on the floor before her.

"Lucius! Can you hear me?"

No reaction, and as far as she could tell in the panic and confusion that surrounded her no pulse or breath either.

"No," she whispered. "You can't leave me. Not now."

The light in her hand flickered and vanished. She felt the mirror box press against her leg and seconds later her mind was made up. She would take her grandfather's weapon and send as many of her enemies to follow her husband as she could.

Keeping hold of Lucius she spoke Karkaroff's old incantation and an invisibility spell, and found herself at the far side of the room elevated above the ground on a type of balcony that jutted outward into the main hall. For a moment she surveyed the battle below her to get her bearings. There was no time to grieve, not yet. She needed every ounce of her strength and determination for her fight.

She counted probably close to twenty or thirty aurors in green robes who had engaged the Death Eaters that had rushed to their master's aid. Off to the side were the two Weasleys fighting back to back against a group of five black robed attackers. Snape stood near the fire-place, supporting the swaying body of Draco with one arm and looking rather like a Death Eater himself in his long black coat as he hurled curses at his opponents. Lucius' son should be safe. But where was Dumbledore?

She looked down once more on her husband's lifeless form. Her hands did not shake any more as she pulled the lid from the box and once again looked into the depths of the mirror. Even in this dim hall the blackness seemed to possess a presence and a life of its own. Slowly she stretched out her fingers to run them over the surface of the glass when suddenly a hand laid itself on to her shoulder.

"I wish you would not," said a quiet voice above her.

"_Visibilis_," she cried and jumped up only to look into Dumbledore's grave eyes.

"And why not?" she hissed angrily. "What have I left?"

"You cannot hope to defeat him," said the old wizard. "Voldemort is another's destiny, not yours. All you can do is die trying. And is death really what you want? There are those who need you. Draco will need you, and if you look into your heart you know there is another, who cannot yet ask for your help."

She turned away, still cradling the box.

"I don't have much time!" Dumbledore's voice had grown urgent. He looked around the hall.

"You and Lucius have done more than enough. You have saved Draco. You have bought us the time we need. Promise me, please: stay here and out of sight! Do not use the mirror!"

With that he'd vanished without waiting for her answer, and as she tried to catch a glimpse of him she heard his last words like a whisper in her head.

"The effects of a Dementor's Kiss can be deceiving, Eleanor. Especially when it has not been completed."

She sank back to the floor of her hiding place.

"Lucius?" she called him cautiously.

A small spark of crazy hope began to burn at the back of her mind.

"Lucius?"


	21. The Battle of Stridley Hall

**The Battle of Stridley Hall**

_"Ibis, redibis, non morieris in bello.__ – Thou shalt go, thou shalt return, never in battle shalt thou perish." (Oracle of the Sybil)_

Lucius remembered stumbling down endless dark corridors, on and on, until he had almost forgotten that he had ever been anywhere else, that he had ever been anyone other than a nameless, faceless man in a maze. It was colder than he could imagine, lightless, and lonely, and he was so tired, so weary to the death with everything.

He dimly recalled some burning agony of pain and almost wished for it to return as a relief from the numbing chill that sank deeper and deeper into him. Yes, he would welcome pain. It would mean that he could still feel, that he was still alive.

He tired to recall the faces he'd seen, the voices shouting at him. There had been a dark, stern face with fury and disappointment in cold grey eyes.

'Octavian – father,…' he thought, desperately clinging to the sound of it, but the name was meaningless to him now.

Slowly the face faded, then the name. Cold seeped into his mind, froze his thoughts, his memories, until they became sluggish, insubstantial. He pushed on, unsure now why he was even still moving. It would be so easy to sit down, to just become a frozen part of this dark world. He paused. What was left of his will hung in the balance, paralyzing him.

And at that something deep inside him stirred.

'You have always been sure of your intent,' an inner voice whispered to him.

'My intent.'

His lips formed the words.

'My intent… my,… me,… Who am I?'

From a great distance he suddenly heard a voice calling. Very dim it sounded, and for a moment he wished in his weariness that the sound would stop. It was pointless trying to hold on to the faces, to the names, to the memories. To sleep, to let go would be so easy.

He slid down to the floor, rested his head on his drawn-up knees to conserve what little spark of warmth he had left to him.

'I am…' he whispered once more, almost feeling now that even the meaning of the words and letters slipped away from him.

'I am, Iam, Iam, Iam-iam-iam……'

It was just gibberish. And yet again he heard the voice echoing through the cold, empty spaces.

"Lucius!"

The name dropped into place like a keystone, like the missing piece of a puzzle. It jolted through his icicle bones, stuck in the sludge of his brain like a live-wire.

'I am! I am Lucius! I am Lucius Malfoy!' he shouted.

With a snarl of anger and self-loathing he pushed himself back up on his feet. How could a Malfoy be reduced to crouching on a floor like some worthless, scared, tired mudblood?

"Lucius!"

He saw a face now, moss-green eyes flecked with gold dust, copper hair the color of flame, skin like honey and cream. The riot of color and light and texture that ripped through his memory was almost painful in its intensity. His lips remembered the taste and sound of a name.

'Eleanor!' he called out to the voice searching for him.

"Lucius!"

The voice had become louder and clearer, was right next to him now, and a moment later he felt hands shaking him. His eyes flew open.

The face he had imagined stared down at him, dim in the quivering half light of some high vaulted hall. Noise erupted all around him, cries, shouts, bellowed commands, cracks and explosions. The very ground seemed to shake with it.

He heard a gasp and saw her hands fly up and cover her mouth. For a moment her green eyes closed. Then her hands were back on him.

"Lucius, do you know me? Do you know where you are?"

Her voice seemed breathless now, choked with something. There was wetness on her cheeks.

He remembered the use of his hands and stretched out his fingers to touch her.

"You are Eleanor. You are my wife," he said, wondering how he knew that, wondering that sounds and words made sense again.

A short, hash sob was her answer.

"Yes!"

He tried again. To speak, to be here with her – to hear, to see, to feel seemed so amazing.

"We are…" he paused, shaking his head in frustration. He should know this.

"Your son," she whispered. "Draco…"

And at that it seemed that the fog of cold and forgetfulness finally parted. The events of the last few hours, the last few days rushed back at him like a giant wave of sensations and emotions.

A tremor passed through him. His muscles hardened involuntarily, painfully. The cramps pulled at his hamstrings, contracted his hands and feet like claws.

'_Cruciatus_,' he thought angrily, trying to get his body under control.

He had no time for this, no time for weakness. Between them Voldemort and that damn Dementor had almost done him in. He fisted his hands, drove his nails into his palms, relished the reality of pain for a moment.

"Where's Draco?" he asked hurriedly. "What's going on?"

He only half listened to her explanations. Dumbledore had been true to his crazy promise and had come through for them. Now all around them aurors and Order members battled the Dark Lord and his servants.

He pushed himself up with a snarl of exasperation, grabbed Eleanor's coat for support.

"Why aren't you down there?" he demanded. "Where's the mirror? Why aren't you fighting?"

"Dumbledore said I couldn't…" she started.

"Damn the old fool," he hissed. "Are you going to listen to him now? Like that idiot Potter? As you can see, I'm fine. Go, declare the mirror and help them."

"I doubt that very much," said a rough voice behind him and as he turned he looked into the scarred face of auror Moody.

He was flanked by a green-robed witch and a green-robed wizard and all three had leveled their wands at him.

"Orders from Dumbledore: protect you against You-Know-Who and ensure you don't do anything rash. You are to stay quiet and out of sight up here and not touch the mirror until this is over."

Lucius had managed to push himself up to his knees.

"I'll…."

"Just don't!" growled the auror. "I believe you have both lost your wands. And I am not above putting you into a body bind."

Lucius felt another spasm shake him as he sank back with a groan.

* * *

Eleanor dipped her fingers into a deep silver bowl that held some medically enchanted water and wearily reached for another roll of bandages. She listened to the mediwizard's instructions, took the bundle of moist gauze he gave her and made her way over to the bed he'd indicated. 

She recognized the pale-faced freckled man who lay in the fresh linens.

"Arthur Weasley," she said and nodded at his wife, who hovered nervously around his sickbed. "I've been told he'll be all right. They've analyzed the poison on the dagger he had in his shoulder and I have some wound dressing here with the antidote."

She sat down on the side of the bed.

"Mrs. Weasley, if you'd help me sit him up, we'll have him patched up in no time."

Between them the two witches dressed and bound a deep, ugly-looking gash in Mr. Weasley's shoulder.

Eleanor had to push herself to concentrate on the job at hand. All around them aurors, mediwizards and the Malfoy house-elves busied themselves taking care of the injured and organizing food and drink and places to sleep for everyone.

The Silver Hall that had seen a lavish handfasting feast only a few days ago had been transformed into a makeshift hospital. The fight with Lord Voldemort and the Death Eaters had left many Order members and aurors injured, and as Lucius had recognized the Dark Lord's lair as Stridley Hall, not five miles away from Malfoy Manor, Dumbledore and the Unspeakable in charge of the Ministry employees had taken Eleanor up on her offer to host the reminder of the fighting force at the Manor for the night. Staff had flooed in from St. Mungo's to treat the wounded.

With Mr. Weasly taken care of, Eleanor felt exhaustion creep up on her. For several hours now she had been in charge, getting everything organized. It was time she checked on her family and perhaps found some food and a bed for herself.

She washed her hands once more, left instructions for Nibbs and the other elves and slowly made her way towards the staircase that led to the family's bedrooms in the upper part of the house.

"Eleanor!" called someone behind her, and as she looked around she saw Dumbledore and a man in the robes of an Unspeakable approach her.

"Do you have a moment?" asked the headmaster and she nodded wearily.

"If you can promise me it won't take much longer than that," she said.

The Ministry official looked at her.

"Desiderius Wermuth's Mirror of Battle," said the wizard. "It must be destroyed. I have authority from the Ministry of Magic to confiscate it and see to its disposal. I order you to hand it over to me."

Eleanor took a deep breath and drew herself up.

"No," she said firmly. "We fought for it. We almost died for it. I will not simply hand over a heirloom of this family."

The Unspeakable murmured something and immediately two aurors apparated to either side of him, one almost knocking Dumbledore out of his way.

"You resist a direct order from a Ministry official?" threatened the Unspeakable. "You will serve time in Azkaban for your defiance."

The aurors drew their wands and moved towards her. She shook her head.

"No, I do not resist the order from the Ministry, I merely resist your interpretation of it. The weapon is mine, not yours, and I will see to its destruction myself. I will not hand it to you. If you wish you may send witnesses tomorrow morning to see that it's done. But I will dispose of my property as I see fit. You can try and arrest me for that."

She did not wait for an answer, but turned on her heel and walked away from the men. Behind her she head Dumbledore talk quietly to the others. They did not follow her or stop her.

* * *

Softly she opened one side of the tall double doors and stepped inside. In the dim light of the candles that illuminated the room she saw an unlikely sight. Lucius had kicked off his shoes and sat on his son's bed, still wearing his muggle clothes. He had leaned his back against the carved headboard and put a pillow over his lap as a head rest for Draco. The boy was sleeping soundly. His now carefully bandaged left arm lay at an awkward angle across the bedspread. It had obviously still hurt when he'd gone to bed. 

Even after knowing him for six years she would have never expected to see the proud lord of Malfoy Manor showing himself so caring, so human. He looked very pale and weak himself after his ordeal at Stridley Hall.

When he heard her, he looked up, his lips stretching in a small, faint smile. She tiptoed over to him.

"It's okay," he said quietly. "He won't wake. The mediwitch who took care of him gave him a rather powerful sleeping-draught."

She pulled up a high-backed chair that stood at the side of the bed and sat down next to him. Lucius had put one hand protectively around Draco's back, and now reached for her with the other.

"What else did she say?" asked the witch.

"He's been branded with the dark mark," explained Lucius with a sigh. "I had hoped to spare him this. It was the one thing about falling out of favor with the Dark Lord that I felt relieved about: that I would never have to do to Draco what my father did to me."

He squeezed her hand in his.

"But that's the only lasting damage. The after-effects of the _cruciatus_ will wear off. And Draco is young and full of life; in time I hope he will be able to cast off the shadow that the Dementors put on him. Right now he is just very weak."

His smile intensified and he looked fondly at the sleeping boy, his free hand trailing over Draco's blond hair.

"He will like us spoiling him with chocolate though, when he wakes up."

She mirrored he husband's smile.

"What else is going on?" he asked.

Eleanor thought quickly. After confronting auror Moody they did not have to wait much longer in their hiding-place until the battle was over. Voldemort and his most powerful and trusted Death Eaters had soon seen themselves outnumbered and deprived of their chance to win without heavy losses. With their hostage gone and the mirror guarded they had disapparated, leaving their dead and injured behind.

Dumbledore himself had come to find them, handing them back their wands that had been recovered from Voldemort's discarded cloak by one of the aurors. He had told them that Severus had taken Draco away to Malfoy Manor as soon as the boy had been freed.

Eleanor had urged Lucius to follow them in the company of Marigold Brannock who had been among the number of aurors that had come to their aid. He was still unable to stand without help and he had not protested her decision. She suspected that he was eager to be reunited with Draco and to reassure himself that his son would be all right.

So she talked quietly and filled him in on the rest.

"Anyway, the whole south wing looks like a cross between the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes at the Ministry and the fourth floor at St. Mungo's. Oh, and I've run into an Unspeakable. We'll have to destroy the Mirror of Battle."

Lucius glared at her.

"You cannot be serious!" he hissed.

Wearily she shook her head. "They wanted to take it from me, but I wouldn't let them. If it needs to be broken, I will do it myself – on my own terms. But it will have to go. I won't have anyone go to Azkaban over this, including myself. It's the price we'll have to pay for getting the help we needed to get Draco back. And I'll gladly pay it for having you both with me alive."

"See," he said darkly, staring into the distance. "This is what I have fought against all my life. This is what it comes down to." He paused, collecting his thoughts. "Tell me what the mirror means to you, Eleanor?"

She groped for words to tell him about the powerful and frightening connection she had made with the Mirror of Battle when she had first seen it. Unsure if she'd managed she sought his eyes and read understanding.

"It is itself: raw potential, incredible force, pure magic," he nodded. "The Dark Lord once told me: 'There is no good and evil, Lucius, only power, and those too weak to seek it.' He was right. That's what the mirror is. And if it is broken there will never be the like again. Even Wermuth could not manage that. They are destroying something that can never be made again, like they have lost us so much else over the years.

And that is what they are reducing us to, with their laws and regulations and their Muggle Protection Acts and their Ministry nannying. – Mediocrity!

One day we will wake up and the last spark of magic will be gone from our lives and we will put on our drab grey clothes and get into our 'cars' and drive to work and never look up, like sheep, like house-elves, like… like – muggles! We will not be capable of what they call evil, because we will not be capable of anything any more. That's why my father joined the Dark Lord. That's why I've followed him."

He leaned back with a sigh.

"What is the next thing they will take from us?"

They fell silent for a while. Perhaps for the first time Eleanor managed to truly understand some of the motives that had drawn the man she loved to the Death Eaters, that had made him embrace the Dark Lord's philosophy. She watched the flames dancing in the fire-place. The darkness behind the tall arched windows had shifted and seemed to have grown pale. She saw white flecks dance outside the glass. It had started to snow.

"And how are you?" she asked quietly, changing the subject. "I almost thought I'd lost you to the Dementor's Kiss."

His grey eyes sought hers and she saw haunted shadows in their cool depths that had not been there before.

"For a moment there I lost myself," he said slowly. "I was not afraid, and it did not hurt, but I felt such cold and bitter hopelessness. Then I heard you call. You brought me back. I remembered you, your face, your name…"

He broke off.

"I will not speak of it again."

For a moment he looked at her, then tilted his head.

"There is still space on the other side of the bed. Will you sit and watch with me, Eleanor?"

She placed his hand back on the covers, got up and stepped around the bed. There would be time to cast off her stained clothes, to wash, to eat, to drink, to make love with him, to sleep.

There would be a time for everything.

**  
****

* * *

Epilogue: Broken Glass**

_"We wait all these years to find someone who understands us, I thought, someone who accepts us as we are, someone with a wizard's power to melt stone to sunlight, who can bring us happiness in spite of trials, who can face our dragons in the night, who can transform us into the soul we choose to be. Just yesterday I found that magical someone is the face we see in the mirror." (Richard Bach)_

It had snowed. During the darkness thick dense flakes had swirled around the old walls, the tended gardens and the ancient trees of the park of Malfoy Manor. Now in the early light of morning a cold, glittering blanket of white covered the lawn behind the lichen-mottled walls of the house and made the boxwood hedges and rosebushes appear like shapeless petrified ghosts.

The sun had begun to cut through the opalescent morning mist and cast a pale silvery light on the still landscape as a group of heavily robed wizards and witches congregated outside the dark, forbidding walls of the stately home. All colors seemed reduced to the stark black and white of an old photograph.

Professors Dumbledore and Snape and several members of the Order of the Phoenix took their places off to the side at the edge of the snow-covered central gravel bed of the garden followed by a group of solemn-looking officials, who had flooed in from the Ministry.

Arthur Weasly blinked in the morning light. He still wore his arm in a sling and was supported by his wife Molly. Finally everyone had taken their places and looked expectantly at a narrow doorway in the north wing of the Manor.

After a few moments' wait two people exited wearing dark cloaks that trailed the ground. The sun finally broke through as they slowly made their way towards the stone sundial that accented the middle of the gravel bed.

Lucius Malfoy leaned heavily on his silver-tipped serpent cane as he walked and his steps seemed labored and tentative. Eleanor Malfoy-Sartorius carried what looked like an old, battered hat-box with a missing lid, and in it the Mirror of Battle. Its blackened glass seemed to suck the sparkle out of the very sunlight itself.

When they had reached the sundial Eleanor sat down her burden on top of it, and slipped off a pair of black gloves she had been wearing, then she picked up her grandfather's weapon for the first time with her bare hands. Lucius stepped aside and watched her, the expression on his pale face unreadable.

"Let all hear and witness!" she cried, and her voice filled the garden and echoed off the walls of the house. "I am the daughter of Greta Sartorius, daughter of Matilda Hohenfels and Desiderius Wermuth, who fashioned this mirror. It is my will that this work of his craft shall serve me and my house, the house of my husband and our heirs as a weapon of defense. Let our enemies hear that every spell they use against us will be cast back upon them a hundredfold. So shall it be!"

She held up the mirror to her face and looked at it.

"Lock for defense!" she commanded. An answering ripple of light passed through the magical weapon.

Several of the aurors and officials moved towards her with shouts of surprise and protest, but Dumbledore raised his hand and waved them back.

Eleanor resumed her declaration.

"As a descendent of the maker of this weapon I have been ordered to destroy this mirror and I will comply. But I have not been commanded how. Therefore I chose to follow the Ministry's instructions in the manner I see fit: hear me and bear witness!"

She suddenly raised the black glass high above her head.

"_Frangas__ partes quintas_!"

The Mirror of Battle began to vibrate in her hands with a sound as overwhelming as the harmony of the spheres itself. Most of the people around her stopped their ears and cowered down with the exception of the two Hogwarts professors and the Lord of Malfoy Manor who quietly regarded his wife.

A moment later a loud crack abruptly ended the sound and five shards of glass flew apart from the witch's hands and landed in the snow forming a perfect pentagram around the couple by the sundial. Eleanor regarded the Ministry wizards with upthrust chin, daring them to find fault with her solution. No one moved, and after a brief look at her husband she walked over and lifted the first sliver of the mirror out of the snow holding it up for all to see.

"This will protect Malfoy Manor for as long as its walls shall stand and shelter Malfoy or Sartorius blood," she declared loudly.

Lucius walked to the opposite side of the pentagram and picked up the next shard.

"This will protect my son Draco and his heirs for as long as they shall live!"

His voice carried as loudly and as defiantly as that of his wife and his eyes sought the window of the room where his son was recovering from his injuries.

Again it was Eleanor's turn to retrieve a piece of the mirror.

"This will protect my husband and his family for as long as he shall live and an heir of his breathes!"

Lucius gathered up the fourth shard.

"This is for my wife. May she be safe for all the days of her life and every Sartorius who follows behind her!"

Lucius and Eleanor finally met face to face before the last piece of the Mirror of Battle that lay in the snow between them. The blond wizard looked down at it, and then into the eyes of his wife.

"Why five pieces?" he asked her softly and saw a small smile curve her lips.

"Can't you guess?" she answered him gently.

She bent down and carefully picked up the black glass, but this time she did not make a statement to the watching wizards and witches. Instead she clasped Lucius' fingers, lifted his hand and lightly laid it against her stomach.

"We shall both declare this piece together when winter has passed and there are leaves on these trees," she said and paused, watching his brows rise in surprise as he felt the tiniest spark of raw magical energy under his palm and a smile slowly spread over his face at the realization what caused it.

"I would think July should be about right. They may try to take what they will, Lucius, but our magic will live on," she told him.

* * *

This concludes "Legacy of Sartorius".

I would like to thank everyone who took time to spend with Lucius and Eleanor, and especially all those who were kind enough to review. I loved reading your comments, suggestions and thoughtful insights into my stories.

You have definitely kept me motivated and interested in my writing and were a wonderful audience.

Currently I am not working on another story, and will probably take a little vacation from writing, clear my mind, get new ideas (after all, with a new book and a new movie in the works this year it shouldn't be to difficult). I will also take time out and get back into reading some of your stories - figuring that if you liked what I did I will probably enjoy what you wrote.

In the meantime I wish you happiness and inspiration.

Love, Elly


End file.
